


Up in Smoke

by yutorin



Series: The Heisei Kumi [14]
Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment, Johnny's Jr., SixTONES (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, And the kids in their charge, Angst, Ariyama are HUSBANDS, Arson, Burns, Child Murder, Fist Fights, Gang War, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief/Mourning, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Healing, Hospitals, How far are they willing to go, Kissing, Knife fights, Lots of Murder, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Nipple Clamps, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, SixTONES are pretty prominent, Switching, Takanoo are complicated, Tattoos, To save themselves, Torture, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-16 16:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 112,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutorin/pseuds/yutorin
Summary: After months of peace an attack leaves the Heisei Kumi reeling, and when an old enemy returns to the area reclaiming that peace starts to feel impossible.





	1. Chapter 1

Keito pursed his lips, staring for a moment, weighing the odds. Across the table from him Yuto’s lips twitched up in the corners in a small smirk. Hikaru was watching, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table, hands folded in front of him, openly smiling. He, along with most of their housemates, had already given up. Keito ran a hand through his long hair, sighing. He laid his cards down on the table in front of him, and declared

“I fold.”

“Me too.” Ryosuke added, tossing his cards face down on the table. Keito leaned across their kitchen table, reaching past the pile of money in the center, and grabbing a warm cookie from the plate right next to it, bringing the confection to his lips as Yuto teased

“Yamada, you too? Scaredy cat!” Yamada just raised his eyebrows, nudging Yuto’s shoulder, and he had his mouth open, ready with some witty retort Keito was sure, when Daiki leaned in, a joking light in his eyes, and he said

“Who’s this Yamada? There’s no one named Yamada here.” The joke got a groan from everyone, Keito joining in. Daiki had been making that joke ever since he and Yamada had gotten married, the two officially Arioka Daiki and Arioka Ryosuke as of August the previous year. While Ryosuke legally hadn't been _Yamada_ Ryosuke in over a year, they all still called him by his old family name, to Daiki’s well voiced disappointment. Yamada for his part didn’t seem to care which name anyone called him, and even in his thoughts Keito still hadn’t adjusted to the name change.

“I guess it’s just you and me.” Yuto declared, turning to Takaki. Takaki nodded, a yawn escaping his lips as he did so. It was getting late, and they were all getting tired; Chinen had already fallen asleep, curled up on Ryutaro’s lap, his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around his back to keep him from slipping. The heat from the oven had warmed the kitchen while Yamada and Daiki had been baking, but it was receding, their heater only doing so much to keep the chilly December air out.

Keito watched with the rest of his housemates as the poker game escalated between Takaki and Yuto, the two eventually coming to a showdown, Takaki winning. There were exclamations of surprise and curses from Yuto, and Takaki smiled, leaning across the table to pull the pile of bills and coins toward himself as Hikaru and Yabu began to clean up. Keito joined in, everyone getting to their feet and stretching, announcing they were going to bed. He was just handing off the last of the cards he’d collected to Yabu when Yuto asked

“Keito, will you be sleeping in our room tonight?” Keito looked over at his friend, and he felt a familiar hand settle on his waist, the small touch answering that question for him.

“No I don’t think so Yuto, you go on ahead.” Ryutaro whistled, treating Keito to a knowing look as he stood, Chinen still fast asleep, curled up in his arms. Keito smiled, a little embarrassed by Ryutaro’s insinuation, and he glanced over at Hikaru, the Kumi-cho just treating him to a small affectionate grin. They all said their goodnights, and instead of following the herd of people up the stairs, Keito followed Hikaru into his bedroom, the two of them changing out of their clothes and slipping into some sweatpants and old tee shirts to sleep in.

They got ready for bed together, talking about the events of the day as they did so. Keito took a bit longer, examining his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He'd gotten a tattoo—a full sleeve on his left arm—about a year ago, and he still wasn't quite used to seeing it there, the colors and line work still catching his eye and putting a smile on his face. His hair had gotten long over the past year, and he liked the way it looked, liked the way Hikaru played with it.

He heard a soft twang, the noise catching his attention, and he spit his toothpaste in the sink, coming out of Hikaru’s bathroom to find his boyfriend sitting on the bed, his brand new guitar in his lap. Hikaru had expressed an interest in wanting something special that the two of them could do together a few months back, and with that thought in mind Keito had bought him a guitar for Christmas, promising that he would teach him how to play. The instrument despite having only been in Hikaru’s possession for four days, had seen plenty of use, Hikaru often asking Keito to play with him in their spare time.

Keito sat on the bed next to him, leaning into Hikaru and hooking his chin over Hikaru’s shoulder, Hikaru’s warm, familiar scent automatically making Keito feel at ease. Hikaru’s fingers ran along the strings of his guitar, barely plucking at them, not really playing, just admiring the instrument, and Keito lifted his head, scooting close so that their bodies were pressed against each other, and he pressed kisses to Hikaru’s shoulder and up his neck, trailing behind his ear. Hikaru set the guitar aside, a smile on his face, and he turned, leaning in, one hand coming up and cradling Keito’s head as their lips met.

Keito loved kissing Hikaru. There was something special in the way Hikaru kissed him. Even after being in a relationship with him for going on two years, the passion and the care with which Hikaru kissed still made something inside of him tingle, made something light up in a way that always managed to make him feel more alive. It was something he didn’t think would ever lose its novelty, and Keito was perfectly happy for it not to. When the kiss broke he opened his eyes, Hikaru’s face still close, and he felt a smile growing on his lips as they looked at each other for a few moments, and he murmured

“Hey.” In that moment something changed in Hikaru’s eyes, the seriousness being replaced with playful affection, and he murmured back

“Hey.” Keito didn’t respond with words, instead leaning in and kissing Hikaru again, that smile still on his face.

They kissed for a while, the two of them eventually falling onto the bed, Keito getting on top of Hikaru, their bodies pressed together, warmth radiating from them, and after a few moments he sat up, straddling Hikaru’s hips as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. Hikaru stilled, watching him, and when Keito looked down at him he demanded

“Quit teasing and get back here.” Keito laughed, and Hikaru smiled, pushing himself up onto his elbows, leaning in closer, and his stomach clenched a little as he chuckled. “C’mon Keito, I mean it.” The words were obviously meant to be serious, but he was grinning, and his tone was playful and affectionate. After a moment Keito fell back into him, the two of them wrapped around each other as their lips met, Keito running one hand up under Hikaru’s shirt, feeling his smooth warm skin and hard muscles, and Hikaru wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him in, pulling him closer.

The kisses grew slower, sweet and lazy and comfortable. Keito leaned into Hikaru, dragging his fingers over Hikaru’s muscular shoulders and up into his hair, flicking his own out of his eyes before Hikaru reached up, pulling it out of his face and curling his hand into a fist, tugging at it just enough for Keito to notice. It was nice, a kind of nice they’d had a lot of recently. They still had the occasional border skirmish with the Wakaba, but there hadn’t been anything resembling a major threat in recent memory. The kumi held more territory and more power than it ever had, and for the most part life had been good. Some of the others were getting a little stir crazy, and in the occasional more serious late night talks there were fears that things were too good to last, but Keito wasn’t one to complain.

“Keito, babe—” Hikaru paused, a yawn overtaking him for a moment. Keito smiled. Hikaru looked a bit like a lazy cat like that, he thought, and as the yawn dragged on, Keito finished his boyfriend’s sentence for him

“You’re tired, and ready to go to sleep, I know.” Hikaru blinked up at him, gaze warm and slightly out of focus, and Keito rolled off of him, Hikaru immediately moving to wrap his body around Keito’s own. Keito stopped him, sitting up and declaring “Hold on, I want to be the big spoon tonight.” At that Hikaru frowned, pushing himself up so that he was sitting too.

“I’m pretty sure it’s my turn.” Keito pursed his lips, knowing that this was teasing, knowing this was a challenge because Hikaru liked it when he took charge. Still, when it came to Hikaru he hated anything remotely resembling conflict, and so after a few drawn out moments of thinking he offered

“Rock paper scissors you for it?” Hikaru immediately broke out in a huge smile, and he shook his head bemusedly, before declaring

“Sure.” They played a few rounds before Hikaru was defeated, Keito’s play of paper beating his rock. Hikaru whined and let out a few choice curses at his defeat, Keito covering his fist with the palm of his hand, a chuckle escaping his lips, and he leaned in, pecking Hikaru on the cheek before crawling under the covers, the two of them burrowing in, cocooning themselves in warmth. Keito pulled Hikaru to him, wrapping his tattooed arm around Hikaru’s midriff, burying his nose in Hikaru’s hair, and he felt Hikaru’s fingers run up his arm as he shifted their legs so that they locked together. Keito immediately began feeling drowsy, and he felt Hikaru intertwine their fingers right before he fell asleep.

Keito woke up to Hikaru turning around in his arms, the movement barely acknowledged in his still mostly asleep mind before Hikaru was placing kisses on his neck, needy hands hot on Keito's skin. Keito pushed into the touch, his eyes fluttering open, and Hikaru smiled at him, murmuring a good morning and pressing their lips together for a quick kiss before Keito felt Hikaru's fingers trailing up his thigh, and he realized what it was Hikaru wanted, and he let out a needy whine, pushing closer, pressing himself as close as he could. Sex was one of those things that—when he'd first started having it—he'd thought couldn't get any better. But over the past year Hikaru had taught him that that simply wasn't true.

With Hikaru he'd had the best sex of his life, and things kept getting better. He worried sometimes that he wasn't as skilled as Hikaru was, but he did his best, and worked hard to make Hikaru feel good. He loved making Hikaru feel good, loved it just as much as—if not perhaps a bit more than—his own pleasure. And on mornings like this one, blowjobs Keito felt, were perfect. To his credit Hikaru seemed to agree, and it was a good forty minutes before they rolled out of bed, Keito still flushed and tingly from his own orgasm. He curled into Hikaru's side, Hikaru indulging him and letting him hold his hand during breakfast, before the two of them went their separate ways; Hikaru to a conference call and Keito out to the alley for some morning sparring with Ryutaro and Chinen.

Keito was proud that he was stronger now than he'd ever been, physically stronger now than both of his younger housemates; but the two of them were much more agile and quick on their feet than he was. The three of them had taken to sparring together quite often, their different styles of fighting making things more of a challenge for everyone. They practiced for a few hours, Keito barely feeling the harsh chill of the December air by the time they were through. At that point they went inside for lunch, Keito taking a quick shower and playing a round of chess with Daiki before Hikaru came looking for him, the Kumi-cho pulling him away to his office so they could practice on their guitars.

It was a quick tutoring lesson, Keito just going over cords and basic fingering with Hikaru before he left for some semi-important meeting, promising to be back for dinner. Keito was discovering that he loved being able to teach Hikaru something for once. Hikaru had taught him countless skills, _life saving_ important skills, and while the knowledge of guitar chords wasn't nearly as vital as how to throw a punch, it felt like he was balancing the scales just a little bit. Plus Hikaru made for an eager and serious student, his obvious interest in what Keito was showing him making Keito happy. It was undeniable that Hikaru was genuinely enjoying himself, and Keito was glad that the practicing sessions were going so well. Despite being the one to propose them, he'd been very nervous about the concept.

Keito kissed Hikaru goodbye, and he was quickly drawn into a card game with Yuto, Takaki, and Inoo, the four of them playing until dinner. As they talked Inoo mentioned that he had a job for Keito that night, Yuto making jokes about how big and bad Keito was as Inoo passed him a slip of paper with the address and the dollar amount Keito was supposed to be collecting, Keito shoving the page into his pants pocket. Dinner was fantastic, everyone talking and joking, the table a bustle with energy as they ate. Hikaru got home in the middle of it all, and he was quickly swept up into the mix, teasing and laughing as he sat down at his place at the head of the table.

After dinner Keito threw on his flashiest jacket and checked his jeans pocket for his knife before heading out the door, making his way over to the address Inoo had given him earlier in the day, taking the page out to read in the light of a streetlamp, wishing for a moment that he had grabbed his scarf, but knowing that sign of weakness wouldn’t be good for his facade. He'd perfected the character he played for his jobs collecting money for Inoo. Things generally went best if he talked as little as possible. His tattoo and his scars were usually enough to scare anyone that tried to talk their way out of their deal with Inoo, and he didn't need words to convince them that trying to butter him up was useless—his fists could do that for him.

It didn’t take long for him to collect Inoo’s money, and he got home to find his housemates all sitting in the living room watching a chess match between Chinen and Daiki, their faces all lit up in the warm glow of the lights of the Christmas tree. It became apparent after a moment that they had split up into two sides, bets having been placed, and after giving Inoo his money and pocketing his own cut he quickly joined in, putting money on Chinen amidst the sounds of groans and cheers, and joining in with the rest of the spectators. Keito took a seat on the couch next to Yuto, his friend smiling and scooting over to make room as they leaned in to watch the chess match.

It was a long, drawn out match, but then Yamada sighed, slumping back into the couch cushions, and Daiki glanced over at his husband, asking

“What?! Shit. What did I miss?” Chinen smirked, a mischievous grin on his face, and he took his bishop, sliding it across the board, and after a few moments Daiki let out a string of curses, his eyes glued on the board, frantically searching for a way out of the pinch he’d gotten himself in. After a long pause Chinen leaned over and flicked Daiki’s king piece, knocking it on its side. There were more cheers and groans, and money changed hands, Chinen asking if anyone else wanted to play him.

When no one jumped at the chance the chess board was put up and they broke out a pack of cards, Yamada declaring that he had to win back the money he’d lost betting on his husband in the chess match. That night Keito spent more time watching his housemates than playing himself, and it was fun, just spending time together. He smiled, leaning into Yuto’s side as his friend burst out laughing at a joke Takaki had told, and he caught Hikaru’s eye across the coffee table, feeling a swell of affection as Hikaru broke into a loving grin.

The days between Christmas and New Years had always been a slow time for them, a time to enjoy each other’s company and be a little lazy, and this year was no exception. The next day was New Year's Eve, and that evening had been spent in a similar fashion of relaxation, when there was a knock on the door and everything stopped. The loud, boisterous voices all fell silent at once, everyone freezing in their places. On reflex Keito felt for his knife in his pocket, and checked his watch. It was only a few minutes past midnight; only a few minutes into the new year, and something about that made his sense of foreboding rise even higher, as Yabu walked over to the door, his own knife in his hand, and he opened it.

There was a long, confused pause because the doorway was empty. But then Yabu made to step out and let out a startling shout. That noise got them all to their feet, as Yabu dropped to his knees, and as Keito got closer he realized that there was a little boy on their doorstep, his body crumpled on the cold concrete of the top step.

“Ozeki!” Takaki shouted, surprise and fear in his voice, and he pushed to join Yabu by the boy, and it was then that Keito noticed the blood on the ground next to the kid’s head, and he registered that the boy’s paleness might not just be because of the darkness of night and the winter chill. “Kumi-cho! Help!” Takaki was clearly panicking, and Keito was beginning to feel rather sick. The boy wasn’t moving. He was _tiny,_ not even a teenager, and he was _so still_. Hikaru pushed through the crowd of people in the doorway, but even as he did Yabu declared

“It’s no use, Takaki. He’s not—he’s dead.”


	2. Chapter 2

Takaki opened his mouth to protest, tears already visible in his eyes, his hand gripping one of the little boy’s arms. Hikaru bent down, shoving past Yabu to put his fingers on the little boy’s neck, checking for a pulse, his eyes wide and face pale, but after a few moments he shook his head in defeat. Keito felt numb, not wanting to process what this little boy’s body meant, not wanting to think about the tragedy lying at their feet in the cold.

“What—what do we do?” Yamada asked, and next to him Keito felt Yuto quivering, shaking as silent tears began rolling down his cheeks.

“Bring him inside. Yabu and I will go do a sweep of the underling housing. We need to figure out what the hell—” Hikaru cut himself off, visibly upset, and he ran a hand through his hair, lips pursed. Takaki scooped the boy up in his arms, and he’d just crossed the threshold back inside when off in the distance there was a sound that for a moment Keito thought was the sound of celebratory New Year fireworks being shot off, before a wash of panic came over him as Hikaru declared

“Gunshots.”

“But that’s the direction of the underling housing. They aren’t allowed to have guns.” Inoo’s confused words added to the churning feeling in Keito’s stomach. Ryutaro let out a long string of curses, and he pushed out the door, running off in the direction of the noise, Hikaru yelling “Fuck. Let’s go! C’mon. You too Takaki. Now!” The tension was palpable, everyone confused, angry and afraid, and Keito turned to see Takaki still holding onto the little boy’s body, not moving.

“There’s nothing we can do for him.” Yabu said, putting a hand on Takaki’s shoulder, and Takaki turned, taking a few more steps inside and laying the boy down on their couch, the arm that had been cradling the boy’s head slick with blood, before he nodded, and together they all ran out into the night. It was freezing, wind whipping at their faces, but Keito barely spared a thought to the temperature, his hand digging into his pocket for his knife as his heart raced in his chest.

As they got closer to the underling housing there were sounds of distress, screams and curses reaching their ears before they could see the cause. The apparent danger made Keito run faster, but when he turned the last corner he froze, shock hitting him like a wall. He'd seen plenty of terrible things, been in plenty of fights, but he’d never seen anything quite like the scene before them. It was chaos, fighting in doorways of buildings, but mostly the fighting was spilling out onto the dark street, bodies of the boys and their attackers shrouded in shadow, and while about half of the figures were on their feet, still in the fight, the other half were in huddled masses in the street, bodies crouched over other bodies.

Those boys, the ones no longer in the fight were the ones that disturbed him the most, because most of the noises of distress were falling from their lips, and in the darkness of night Keito couldn’t tell _why_. The huddled masses of boys and the awful, fear inducing noises coming from them speaking of unknown injury and grief paralyzed him, and his eyes flicked around the scene for a moment, wondering where to even start, afraid because in the darkness he couldn’t even tell which of those still standing were underlings and which were their attackers. He was put back into motion when one of the figures fighting fell to his knees, and from somewhere in front of him there was the earsplitting crack of a gunshot, the noise snapping Keito out of his spiraling panic.

Daiki pushed past him, and Keito followed in his lead, running at a mass of fighting people, Daiki tackling a man much taller than himself. Keito knew better than to attempt to help Daiki, and he saw a boy no older than fifteen get knocked to the ground next to him, and he turned to help that kid instead, slamming his fist into the back of that boy’s attacker’s head. He kicked out, connecting right between his opponent's shoulder blades, pushing him forward and sending him tumbling to the pavement. Once he was down all it took were a few well placed kicks to his skull before he stopped moving. Keito turned to help the teen that had fallen, and as he was pulling the kid to his feet he heard an unfamiliar voice yell

“Let's go! C’mon!” He turned, looking for the source of the shout, and he wasn't the only one, Daiki freezing for a moment, treating the person he'd been fighting to one last punch before letting them scramble away as he looked for the owner of the voice. Keito's attention was quickly drawn back to the boy however when the kid fell into him, his legs seeming unable to hold him up any longer, and the boy said, his voice quiet and rough with exhaustion

“Prince, help us. Please.” Keito flipped his knife shut with a flick of his wrist, wrapping his tattooed arm around the boy’s torso to hold him up while he shoved his weapon in his pocket, before lifting the kid up in his arms. All around them the enemies were leaving, running off into the night, and while Keito didn’t get a good look at any of them, they were all fleeing in the direction of the Wakaba territory. The Wakaba had never behaved this way, had never sought to punish the underlings before, and between this unprecedented behavior and the dead boy on their doorstep Keito was fighting to push down the panic churning his stomach. Still, he looked down at the kid in his arms, and he promised

“Everything is going to be okay. They’re leaving now, and the Kumi-cho is going to make sure everyone is all patched up.” The teen didn’t say anything, and Keito looked around for a familiar face, eventually spotting Jesse Lewis and Kouchi Yugo standing together at the edge of the street light wrapped up in each other’s arms. Their familiar faces were a welcome sight, and he yelled out, causing their heads to whip around in his direction. They immediately rushed to his side, asking questions that Keito didn’t know the answers to and insisting that they take the boy—who they called Haba-chan—inside one of the buildings.

Kouchi was called away seconds after that decision had been reached, and he ran off, Keito following Jesse inside one of the many buildings, going into a small apartment, where Jesse said this boy lived with three other kids. Keito set him down, and as he did Haba turned to Jesse, asking about someone named Soya, but Jesse just shrugged, digging under the sink for a moment before emerging with a small first aid kit. He told Keito that he could handle anything the boy needed, and Keito hesitated for a moment, before nodding, remembering the groups of boys out in the street, knowing that there were more kids that needed help.

When he emerged from the building Hikaru was yelling. He ran to the noise, and he realized after a moment that the Kumi-cho was giving orders, slowing down so that he could listen properly.

“—that can run need to go into every apartment and house, and get any medical supplies and bring them to this house.” He pointed to the building closest to himself. “If you think you can carry the unconscious ones, then do so. If you have any skills in doing stitches or dealing with any other serious injuries—broken bones, bullet wounds, dislocated limbs—you’re to meet with Yabu, over there.” Hikaru pointed to a patch of pavement, where Yabu was standing with Kyomoto Taiga, the two talking seriously, Yabu barely taking notice of Hikaru’s instruction, belatedly raising his hand to indicate where he was.

Keito reached Hikaru in that pause, glad to find that most of his housemates were also there, falling in beside Chinen and Inoo, trying to quell the frantic fear still bubbling inside of him, trying to tune out the sounds of distress that were still coming from some of the boys around them, and focus on Hikaru. Now wasn’t the time for panic, not when there were so many kids that needed their help.

“If there's someone that is in dire need of attention, please tell one of the ten of us and we'll make sure they get seen to first. Kouchi and Matsumura will be doing a head count; we can't afford to lose anybody.” Hikaru turned away from the crowd of boys, focusing on on the circle most of their housemates had made around him. “Inoo, I need you to go back home and grab all of our medical supplies. Daiki, Keito, Yuto, I'm going to assign each of you a handful of boys that are strong enough to help and you'll go through the injured kids and prioritize. Check the apartments and the street. Everyone's going to get fixed up eventually, but I don't want a kid with a few cuts getting helped before someone with a gunshot wound. Send the worst ones in immediately. Any unconscious ones will need to be carried over too. Got it?” Keito nodded, and Hikaru continued

“Anyone left will be helping Yabu and I.” He turned back to a mass of underlings standing close by as most of their housemates scattered, getting to work. Hikaru leaned in, talking to a few of the boys, and pointing toward where Keito was standing with Yuto and Daiki, Keito feeling Yuto lean into him, Keito leaning back as six boys made their way over to the three of them, the boys splitting up into duos as they drew close, two in their teens placing themselves in front of Keito. They were thin, their eyes wide with fear, and they were clinging to each other, but they didn’t seem to be very hurt, and after quick introductions—in small, tiny voices that their names were Inoue and Hashimoto—the three of them got to work.

It was mind numbing, Keito trying to distance himself from his work as he went through the boys that were still huddled on the streets, assigning numbers to them correlating to their level of injury, just like he did after raids at home. Inoue and Hashimoto followed behind him, staying for the most part silent as they walked through huddled groups of boys, and Keito was starting to feel relieved; he hadn’t seen anyone yet that required immediate, life saving attention, when he entered a quiet, dark apartment, and found a young teen lying slumped against the wall, covered in blood, unmoving. He felt a jolt of sickening dread cut through the numb horror he’d settled into, and he rushed to the boy’s side, feeling with trembling fingers for a pulse.

That boy was one of five that were found dead that night, and one of two that were found by Keito. Their bodies were scary in a way that still things shouldn’t be, and his first instinct was to shy away, but the trembling boys Hikaru had assigned to help him kept him going in a way that he knew he couldn’t have if he’d been on his own. He just needed to push on, just for a little bit longer, and then he could—he could—. He never got to what he could do, not truly able to see past that seemingly endless night of horror he’d been thrust into. They worked for hours, Keito and his two boys rushing back and forth between the house that had become the medical hub, and the wounded in the streets, following orders and helping as best they could.

They worked for hours, as the moon arced across the sky, the chill of winter seeping into their bones. It was only an hour or so before sunrise when the last boy was finally tended to, and Keito found himself standing around with a few of his housemates and some of the older underlings, suddenly without a job to do. He instinctively looked for Hikaru. Hikaru could tell him what was next. Hikaru could make this better, or at least provide Keito with a distraction. Something. He found his leader sterilizing what looked to be the last of their medical supplies, as around him Inoo and Yabu were cleaning, scrubbing blood from surfaces and filling a bag with countless dirty bandages and scraps from ruined bloodstained clothing.

The room was silent except for the sounds of their work, the three older men diligent in their tasks, an energy in the room, a tension that Keito had felt a handful of times in the past after particularly bad raids. Keito felt apprehensive, not sure what to do, not wanting to announce himself and break into the scene playing out. His presence was noticed after a few moments of fidgeting on his behalf, Hikaru turning from the sink and meeting his eyes. There was pain in his face, but it was buried under a level of closed off professionalism that Keito rarely saw from his boyfriend. Hikaru was opening his mouth to speak when Kouchi and Matsumura walked in, their bodies no longer smeared in blood, bruises on their knuckles and faces swollen where they'd been hit, notebooks in their hands.

“Kumi-cho!” Hikaru’s attention was immediately stolen, turning to the two underlings, and they stepped up closer to him, flicking through their notebooks and talking fast, listing off names of boys, some of which Keito recognized, but most of which he didn’t, fingers trailing down the pages as if going down a list, their voices low. Hikaru was listening, silent, and Keito went over to the sink, taking up cleaning the medical supplies Hikaru had been working on, wanting to do something. He could feel a well of emotion in his chest, pressing against his ribcage sharply, but he kept it down. There would be a time to cry, and yell, and feel, but it wasn’t right now. No one else had lost it; he couldn’t.

He tried not to listen to the conversation Hikaru was having, and it wasn’t until he’d finished cleaning that he found himself tuning in to what the three of them were saying.

“—four, and there is only one that still hasn’t been found. Ozeki Kafu. Juri is out looking for him, we sent the boy to get you and bring help, but no one’s seen him.” Kouchi was saying, his brows pushed in, furrowed in serious concern. Hikaru sighed, and his jaw clenched as he let out a heavy exhale through his nose.

“Ozeki is dead. We found him on our doorstep...his body is still at our house.” There was a long pause, the silence heavy, Kouchi in particular looking immensely distraught, before Hokuto nodded, pulling a pen out of the spiral of his notebook and making note on his page.

“Can...can you bring him back home? Kouchi asked. Hikaru nodded, promising

“I’ll send someone with him tonight.” Kouchi thanked him, and after handing Hikaru one of the notebooks he and Hokuto headed up the stairs, Hokuto pulling out a cell phone, saying something about calling Juri as he left. Hikaru tucked the notebook under his arm, and turned back to Keito, sighing. He didn’t seem to really be looking at Keito, his eyeline passing right through him as his fingers curled around the edge of the notebook. After a moment he declared “Let’s go. We still have some work to do once we get home. Yabu, can you round up the rest of them?” Yabu nodded, and slipped away, out the front door and into the street. The three of them left in the kitchen followed him at a much slower pace, Keito falling in right behind Hikaru.

It didn’t take long for everyone to gather, and as soon as they had the group started making their way back home in silence. The cold winter air and the horrors of the night kept everyone huddled in one big mass, and Keito kept close to Hikaru, and once he felt that no one was paying much attention he slipped his hand into Hikaru’s. Usually Hikaru discouraged any displays of affection past a friendly arm over the shoulders, but when Keito laced their fingers together he held on, squeezing tight to Keito’s hand. The grip was comforting, and Keito watched a little of the tension in Hikaru’s shoulders wash away, feeling a small sense of relief. It wasn’t just comforting for him; Hikaru needed it too.

They held hands all the way home, Hikaru finally letting go when they turned the last corner and red door of their house came into view. The first thing they’re greeted with when they crossed the threshold was the sight of little Ozeki Kafu’s body lain out on their couch, the boy’s head surrounded in a small pool of red, his blood having seeped into the fabric. With everything else that had happened that night Keito had somehow almost forgotten about the kid, the catalyst that had started them on what had to be the longest night of his life. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, all he wanted to do was sit down, somewhere where there were no reminders of what had happened, somewhere where he wouldn’t have to think about what the events of the night meant, and forget.

He paused just inside the doorway, as some of the others went over to the little corpse, huddling around it. He wasn’t the only one standing back, Yuto pressing himself into Keito as soon as he crossed the threshold, curling into Keito and shoving his face into Keito’s neck, Keito wrapping his arms around Yuto’s shoulders, feeling Yuto’s hot wet face press into him. He’d been crying. Keito squeezed his friend hard, and Yuto didn’t move to pull away, or to reciprocate, just allowing himself to be enveloped by Keito’s arms as across the space the others talked amongst themselves, Keito watching over Yuto’s shoulder as Hikaru murmured something to Yabu, the oldest man nodding and scooping up Ozeki Kafu’s corpse.

There was a moment of stillness, and then confusion, as Inoo leaned in over the boy’s tiny body, brows furrowed, before he pulled a piece of paper out of the kid’s jacket pocket. It was an envelope, all folded up to fit into a child sized pocket, and Keito murmured to Yuto that something was happening, as Inoo unfolded the envelope, before handing it over to Hikaru. Yuto pulled himself to his full stature, and Keito kept an arm around Yuto’s lower back, pulling him close in an attempt at maintaining some comforting touch as they moved closer, watching as Hikaru pulled a paper out of the envelope. The whole house was silent as he read over it, and then there were a few moments of pause, Hikaru lowering his hand, Keito making out the words on the page, written large, and thick _I’m home_ before Hikaru declared

“Wakaba Ichinojo. He’s back.”


	3. Chapter 3

Keito felt Yuto stiffen up next to him as the words left their Kumi-cho’s lips, and on reflex he pulled Yuto in, turning away from the rest of their housemates and throwing his arms around Yuto’s shoulders as the implications of the Kumi-cho’s announcement wormed their way into his brain. Wakaba Ichinojo was a name he’d heard before, his housemates’ mentions of it always accompanied by hard set jaws and furrowed brows, anger and grief in their voices. He had been the leader of the Wakaba Kumi for some time before Keito had joined the kumi. He’d been the one in charge when Taiyo had died. And now he was the one responsible for all of the dead boys from tonight. A lump formed in Keito’s throat as he thought about it, and as he squeezed Yuto tighter a burning hot anger pitted itself in his stomach.

“Are you sure?” It was Chinen that voiced the question, his voice relatively calm amidst the sounds of their housemates’ emotions; and there was a low whine from Hikaru, before their leader said

“I can’t prove it...but this has to be him. He’s been out of the area for years now, and things have been better, and now suddenly the whole world goes to hell, and I get this—” There was a pause, everyone silent. “The Wakaba would never do this without his influence.” There was an indistinct sound of agreement from Yabu, and Yuto shifted in Keito’s arms, as though he were thinking about pulling away, but changed his mind at the last moment. After a short silence Yabu brushed past him, carrying the dead boy’s little body in his arms as he left to return it like Kouchi had requested. There was a sharp grief filled tension in the room, and there was a long pause after Yabu had left, before Inoo’s voice behind Keito asked

“Now what, Kumi-cho?” This time Yuto did move, raising his head from where he’d tucked it back into Keito’s neck, and instead propping it on Keito’s shoulder to look over at their leader. Keito wanted to look too but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to dislodge Yuto, so he stayed still and shut his eyes, listening as Hikaru said

“Now we get proof.” His voice was high with emotion, and Keito could picture him without having to see, knowing that Hikaru’s hands were tense, the veins in his arms and neck prominent, his jaw clenched, his eyes the only thing betraying the grieving. It was a sight Keito had seen far too many times in their years of knowing each other, and just hearing the note of pain in Hikaru’s tone had Keito’s own emotions going through an upheaval in his stomach, and it was suddenly much harder not to cry. Hikaru’s next few words were more measured, more controlled, and Keito took a deep breath as he listened.

“Everyone should get cleaned up; did anyone get hurt?” There was a mulled consensus of denial, no one declaring their injuries to rank any higher than a two, and Hikaru sighed. “Good. Tomorrow, after everyone's gotten some sleep and eaten we’ll check back in with the underlings, and then as soon as we can we’ll hit the Wakaba back. They need to be punished for this. They—” He paused, sighed again. “—I’m sure some of the underlings will want to join in the raid, and I’m going to let them. Those fuckers deserve to feel the pain they inflicted on us, on our boys, and I want to dish it out just as bad—worse than they did.” Yuto nodded against Keito’s shoulder, and he pulled back a little, Keito twisting around just enough to see the rest of their housemates, taking care to keep his arms wrapped around Yuto’s shoulders, not planning on letting go for a long time. Not until Yuto felt better, or asked him to stop.

“Fucking good.” Daiki growled from where he was standing sandwiched between Inoo and Yamada, both of his companions looking rather teary. He wasn’t crying however, his face hard, voice betraying his anger. It was an anger that they’d seen less and less of over the years, and one that had all but disappeared in the peace and happiness that had come into their lives around the same time that Daiki and Yamada had gotten married. It was almost nostalgic to see the familiar fury written all over his housemate’s face, but this time instead of feeling a wash of fear in response, Keito felt a kinship. This time he more than just platonically understood Daiki’s anger; this time he participated in it. And as he did a quick sweep of his housemates’ faces, he found that he was far from the only one.

Takaki was the first one to turn away from the group, going into the kitchen and digging around in the cabinets for a few moments, before seeming to remember that they’d taken all of their first aid kits to the underlings, and instead he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the tap, calling out over his shoulder

“Inoo, get in here.” Those words seemed to break the stillness, and within seconds everyone was in motion, all of them digging around for hand towels and washcloths of their own to wash any blood off of each other’s hands and faces. Yuto wiped at his face with the back of his hand, and he pulled away from Keito completely, moving to get a towel of his own, and in his absence Keito immediately turned to Hikaru, wanting to kiss him, but knowing that Hikaru wouldn’t like that, not in front of everyone, and so he settled on running his hands up Hikaru’s arms and across his shoulders, not sure of what he should say. Hikaru sighed, falling silent for a moment, before he stiffened up suddenly, as if realizing something and he asked, tone serious

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Keito shook his head, the tension in Hikaru’s shoulders falling out of them as he murmured

“I’m okay. I didn’t even get hit.” Hikaru nodded, sounding almost distracted as he said

“Good, that’s good.”

“What about you?” Hikaru shrugged.

“I may have a bruise or two in the morning, but it’s really nothing.”

“Keito!” Their conversation was cut off by Yuto, calling out for him, and Keito knew that Yuto knew he was butting in and he didn’t care. Because Yuto needed attention. He needed to be taken care of; he was afraid of being left alone with his grief. Keito turned to Hikaru, wanting to stay, to clean him up and then perhaps drag him back to his room and curl up together and maybe cry for a while, but instead he said

“He needs me.” Hikaru nodded, seeming to understand the situation, and he asked

“Will you be coming to see me at all?” Keito nodded, leaning in closer, so that if he tilted his head a little their foreheads would touch.

“I want to. I—”

“Keito!” Yuto’s voice cut him off, and Keito leaned in, maintaining eye contact and knocking their foreheads together for a moment before pulling away and waving to Yuto, taking in the little station he’d set up for them, with a damp hand towel and a bowl of water set on a small patch of their kitchen table.

“Sorry.” Keito said, once he was close enough, but his apology wasn’t really acknowledged, Yuto instead reaching out with the towel and wiping it across Keito’s cheek. Keito was surprised when the cloth came back with a stripe of red. He hadn’t thought he’d been all that dirty. Sure, he’d carried and tended to bleeding people, but despite that he’d felt that compared to some of his housemates he’d had far less reason to be bloodstained. The amount of it that Yuto wiped away made him reevaluate however, and he stayed for the most part still, letting Yuto work. Yuto had regained most of his composure, no longer crying, but he didn’t speak, and he seemed laser focused on his work, eyes still red, still watery, and Keito knew that the wall his friend had managed to put up was paper thin, and would crumple in the slightest breeze.

Once Yuto had declared him cleaned up, Keito took the towel and rinsed it off in the bowl of water, before getting to work on Yuto’s own face. It wasn’t until he used his hands that he realized they were trembling from fatigue, and his knuckles were bruised over and swollen, making it a bit harder to use them, his range of motion more limited than usual. Yuto didn’t seem to have as much blood on him as he’d wiped off of Keito’s skin. He only had a few smudges on his face and neck, probably left there from his own fingers, subconscious touches that had probably happened throughout the course of the night. The state of his hands seemed to backup that theory, those much more covered in blood, a pretty solid coating of drying, flaking blood up to his wrists and onto his sleeves.

Yuto pushed himself up so that he was sitting on the table, and he let his legs hang down, his whole body rather limp, allowing Keito to simply do as he pleased, Keito fiddling with his fingers and scrubbing his face with the towel to no reaction. He wasn’t really present, his gaze directed in the space next to Keito’s right shoulder, but he didn’t seem to be focused on anything. For a while Keito let him be, not saying anything until he was nearly done, setting down one of Yuto’s hands to reach for the other one, saying softly

“Yuto?” Yuto blinked, jerking a little at the sound of his name, and looking up at Keito. He looked lost, he looked like he was in pain, and it reminded Keito of the times that they would go to Raiya’s grave, only this time the wounds were fresh, and he was feeling them much more sharply than the old scar of his brother’s death. Words died in Keito’s throat, and he finished cleaning Yuto up hastily, offering “Let's go to bed.” The fact that the sun had just come up for the day didn’t seem to bother Yuto, and he nodded, seeming on the verge of tears once more. They went up to their bedroom together, Keito leading the way, taking Yuto by the hand and making sure he followed behind.

They changed out of their bloodstained clothes, shivering as the cold winter air hit their bare bodies in the brief moments between outfits, before they settled into Yuto’s bed together, Keito not really even given the option to go to his own bunk, Yuto clinging to his arm, dragging him onto his mattress. He was crying again, when he’d started Keito didn’t know, but Yuto had fat, hot tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping off of his chin and the end of his nose, and Keito fought to keep his own emotions under control, wanting to comfort his friend, to be there for him, and be strong for him. He swallowed a lump in his throat, whispering as he leaned his side into Yuto’s own and wrapped an arm around Yuto’s shoulders

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t...don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.” Yuto shook his head, trembling hands coming up to cover his face. His voice was rough, even more so than usual, and he could barely be heard, shaky, gulping breaths hindering the word as he said

“No.” Keito shook his head, rubbing circles on Yuto’s back and feeling Yuto curl into him, his head back under Keito’s chin, fingers curling into Keito’s shirt, his tears seeping into the fabric and running down Keito’s neck. They sat like that for a long time, the two of them slowly sinking further and further into the mattress. Keito tried to comfort his friend, tried to say sweet things, but it seemed that his presence did more for Yuto than any of his words could, and so eventually he stopped talking, instead rubbing circles on Yuto’s back, and holding him close until he fell asleep. Keito cried some. Quietly, once Yuto had for the most part stopped moving, and he felt sure it wouldn’t be noticed.

He was exhausted, he was miserable, and he had more than half a mind to just close his eyes and fall asleep right there. But he wanted Hikaru. He wanted to see Hikaru, to touch Hikaru, kiss him, so badly that it almost hurt, and so once Yuto was fast asleep he slowly slid out from under his friend’s heavy body, rolling Yuto onto his side with trepidation, but Yuto didn’t wake up. Relieved, Keito practically ran from the room, moving hastily down the stairs, finding the whole house quiet. It looked as though everyone had retreated to their rooms. Perhaps Yuto wasn’t the only one sleeping. That thought made him slow down, and he took more care to remain quiet as he moved through the living room, passing through Hikaru’s office before pushing open the door to his boyfriend’s bedroom, hoping that he was still awake.

Hikaru was sitting up in bed, his guitar in his lap, but he wasn’t playing it, and when Keito peered through his doorway he looked up, meeting Keito’s gaze. He’d been crying too, his eyes red, tear tracks shining on his cheeks, and he motioned for Keito to come closer, Keito crawling up into the bed with him at once. He could feel the false air of strength he’d put up around Yuto already beginning to crumble, and as he leaned in to kiss Hikaru a small sob escaped him, Hikaru just leaning in faster when he heard it, meeting his lips and kissing him with a sort of eager, sad desperation that comforted Keito, let Keito know that he was happy to see him, that he wanted him, and still retained in it Hikaru’s sadness, and his grieving and fear about the murderous attack they’d just been through. It was wretched, and lovely, and Keito didn’t want it to stop.

When they both finally pulled away they were both crying, and Hikaru said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he regained some composure, his body moving, reaching over the edge of the bed to set the guitar off to the side

“I had started to wonder if you were coming.”

“I...um...it was Yuto. He’s asleep now, but…” The words came out in a jumble, nonsensical, mixed up in deep breaths in an attempt to get his tears under control before they truly got out of hand. Hikaru nodded, and he wiped at his face, before pulling the duvet on his bed back, inviting Keito in underneath, and Keito slid in, reaching out and wrapping himself around Hikaru, feeling Hikaru do the same to him, their arms around each other, faces close, breathing heavy, and Hikaru kissed him again, Keito having to break the kiss because he was crying too hard, the horror and fear and sadness that had been building inside of him all night finally spilling over, and there, in Hikaru’s arms he finally let himself go.


	4. Chapter 4

The house was silent for most of the day. Everyone stayed in their rooms until late afternoon or early evening, completely skipping breakfast and lunch. They all slept for hours, exhausted by the night’s events, Keito himself waking up to find that it was late afternoon, his face buried into the crook of one of Hikaru’s elbows, Hikaru’s arms loose around him, Keito’s head half tucked under his boyfriend’s chin. Hikaru was fast asleep, and Keito pulled away enough to look at his face. He had a bruise on his temple that Keito hadn’t noticed the night before, and his eyelashes had dried all clumped together from crying.

Keito lay there for a while, shutting his eyes for periods but not falling asleep, just reveling in the temporary peace and occasionally letting himself look over Hikaru’s face. It felt good to just lay, to feel Hikaru’s warm body pressed up against his under the sheets, feel Hikaru’s heart and his steady breathing. It was something that he’d grown used to, and he hadn’t stopped to appreciate it in a long time. Eventually however, Hikaru started shifting, waking up, and Keito rolled over, pushing himself up onto his elbow to kiss him, Hikaru returning the kiss after a few moments, his lips moving lazily, eyes slowly opening as the kiss broke.

For a few moments he looked happy, worry free, his eyes full of affection, his lips curled up in a small smile. But then he blinked a few times, and each time seemed to restore a reason for worry, or grief or anger to his mind, and Keito watched the emotions settle into him, Hikaru much more somber by the time he sat up. Keito kissed him again, not wanting to let go of the peace he’d been feeling, and Hikaru kissed him back, but this time the kiss was more desperate, and Keito could feel the outside world beginning to press on him, driving out the false sense of peace he’d been hiding in. It was then that there was a knock on the bedroom door, and it seemed to signal the end of his fleeting little sanctuary, Hikaru standing to answer it as Keito made his way to the bathroom.

Keito took a quick shower, rinsing away any residual sweat and blood, before brushing his teeth, making to go back out into the bedroom when from the other side of the door he heard Yabu’s voice and he froze, his nudity stopping him. He wasn’t extremely self conscious, but he would definitely be interrupting, and Hikaru had told him once that he liked the idea of Keito’s naked body being something that was reserved specifically for him, a notion Keito had found himself rather charmed by. He stayed still, standing by the bathroom door, listening for signs of Yabu leaving, but instead he heard

“He was _eleven_ Hikaru.”

“I know.”

“His skull was bashed in from behind. He couldn’t even fight—” Yabu’s voice was getting higher with each word, the distress palpable, and Keito felt that nauseating dread he’d felt most of the night wash over him as he stood there, listening.

“I know.”

“I know they asked for his body, but I don’t know if they have any idea what to do.”

“I’m going to call the crematorium.” Hikaru sounded immensely stressed as he spoke. “If any of the boys have living relatives I want to send their remains to them. If they don’t then...I’ll open a new grave for the underlings. I want to talk with Kouchi and some of the others though, to get a little more information than what the notebook they gave me has in it. I’ll go by in the morning.” Keito turned away from the door, figuring this wasn’t a conversation he should be eavesdropping on, and instead he fished a hair dryer out of the bathroom cabinet, deciding he’d blow out his hair while he waited for Yabu and Hikaru to finish their little meeting.

The resulting noise blocked out any sound coming from the bedroom, and by the time he was finished it was quiet, Keito taking that as a sign that it was fine for him to come out, and he opened the door, peering around. The bedroom was empty, and Keito walked over to Hikaru’s dresser, pulling some clothes out that he knew Hikaru wouldn’t mind him borrowing before going out to the office. Hikaru was there, sitting in his desk chair, his phone up to his ear, talking quietly to someone on the other end. He had that stressed, grieving worry all over his face, and Keito leaned in from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck and running his bruised hands over Hikaru’s shoulders and down his arms, his eyes following the lines of Hikaru’s tattoo as his hands moved.

The actions seemed to relax Hikaru a bit, and Keito turned, leaving silently to let the Kumi-cho work in peace, shutting the office door behind himself. Without Hikaru’s emotions to worry about Keito could feel his own cocktail of negative emotions weighing on him a little more strongly, and he went to try and find Yuto, worried about him, but when he did he found that Yuto was being taken care of already, his friend curled up with Inoo and Takaki, the three of them all talking quietly in Takaki and Inoo’s shared bedroom, and Keito left them to it, not wanting to interrupt. The others too had all found someone to comfort them it seemed, and he found no distraction from his own emotions. He felt another wave of tears threatening to take over, and so he sought out his favorite grieving place, a small closet, and he sat down in it, shutting the door and taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.

He did cry, but only a little, and he felt a little bit better afterwards. This was a fucking disaster. It was a total, awful wreck, but right now he couldn’t do anything about it. Right now all he could do was try to help his housemates. He sat there for a few moments, wiping his eyes and trying to think of what could help right now, and he wished Shoon were there. He would know what to do. He would know what would make them feel better. What would Shoon have done if he were around, Keito wondered, and almost at once he remembered a time when he’d been upset and Shoon had made him miso soup, and almost as if in reflex his stomach growled.

He made his way down to the kitchen, and while he was by no means a skilled chef, he could do something simple like that. He could do miso soup. It was nearing dinner time, and so he decided to make enough for everyone, placing a huge pot on the stove and getting to work. It wasn’t long before his housemates started coming downstairs, the smells of his cooking drawing them in, Yamada jumping in to help him, while some of the others worked on setting the table. It was comforting, the unspoken support easing some of the weight grief had left on his shoulders, and by the time they were ready to sit down and eat he was feeling exponentially better. Hikaru was the only one that didn’t come of his own accord, Keito going to get him from his office after he’d put the food on the table.

Hikaru was sitting at his desk still, looking over the notebook that Kouchi had given him, a pen in his left hand, making notes on a blank page. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice Keito enter, completely enthralled by the pages at his fingertips. Keito felt that this really wasn’t a good time, but they always ate dinner together, and so he stepped closer, and when that didn’t catch Hikaru’s attention he said

“Kumi-cho, dinner is ready.” Hikaru glanced up at him, barely giving him any notice before saying

“Can you just bring me mine in here tonight? I have too much to do tonight, I can’t take a break.”

“Of course.” Keito could feel the words getting stuck in his throat, coming out slightly delayed, and he turned, letting himself out. He’d wanted for them all to be together, for Hikaru to not isolate himself. He had hoped that the extra work that would come out of this wouldn’t be enough to keep Hikaru away from them. He’d wanted to spend more time with his boyfriend today. It had been foolish to think Hikaru wouldn’t be extremely busy after the events of the previous night. Of course he wouldn’t have any time to spend neglecting the many matters that had to be handled now that there were boys dead. There were boys dead. That was all that mattered.

Keito prepared Hikaru his meal and took it to him on a tray, setting the tray down on the edge of his desk as quietly as he could and moving to leave, not wanting to interrupt, when he felt something brush the back of his hand. He turned back to see Hikaru leaning over the desk, his arm outstretched to grab at him. Hikaru looked up at him, eyes serious, and he said quietly

“Thank you.” Keito nodded.

“Don’t forget to eat, Kumi-cho.” Hikaru frowned.

“The polite shit, Keito—”

“Hikaru.” Hikaru tugged at his hand, neck craning up, and Keito leaned in as Hikaru made to stand, meeting him halfway. The kiss wasn’t the most graceful thing, but it was good, and Keito felt better afterwards, Hikaru even managing a small smile when they broke apart. “Good luck with your work.” Keito told him quietly, and Hikaru nodded.

“Will I be seeing you again tonight?” He asked, and Keito shrugged.

“I don’t want to get in the way. It may be good if I just leave you alone to get what you need done.”

“Well...if you have some free time and want to hang out in here while I work, I wouldn’t mind. You could...read or play your guitar or something.” Hikaru offered, and Keito didn’t miss the little flash of hope in his eyes. It was sweet, and it made Keito feel warm inside. He nodded.

“If I have some free time, I will.” Keito returned to the kitchen, to find that the rest of them had started eating without him, Ryutaro ladling some soup into his bowl when he sat down. There was some subdued conversation, the nine of them talking about inconsequential light hearted things throughout the meal, all of them noticeably more cheerful the more they ate. It was nice, and after dinner they broke out a pack of cards, everyone participating in a few rounds of poker, all of them more awake than they should have been, due to having slept through most of the day.

Eventually Yabu disappeared into Hikaru’s office, and soon after the Ariokas made to go to bed, Takaki and Inoo following them. Keito stayed up with Yuto, Chinen, and Ryutaro, not completely sure he would actually not be a nuisance if he joined Hikaru. Chinen broke out the mahjong tiles after the older men had gone to bed, the gambling continuing for a few more hours, much to Keito’s dismay. He was shit at mahjong. The game seemed to do Yuto some good, and the longer it stretched on the more boisterous he got, his energy relieving to see. Eventually Chinen lost interest in favor of snuggling with his boyfriend, Ryutaro’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink that made Keito smile.

They stayed up into the early hours of the following morning, the mahjong devolving into chatter, the game left abandoned after Ryutaro’s last spectacular victory, tiles all over their coffee table. It felt good, felt almost like normal, and Keito didn’t notice how late it was until Yabu and Hikaru emerged from the Kumi-cho’s office, the two of them surprised to see anyone still awake. As if their arrival was a signal everyone got to their feet, saying their goodnights and making toward the stairs. Keito reached out, putting a hand on Yuto’s shoulder, not sure if he should follow his friend or stay down with Hikaru, and Yuto turned around smiling at him, and he said

“You sleep better when you’re not in a bed by yourself, don’t you? I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me so much.” Keito pulled Yuto in for a big hug, feeling rather emotional at the display of consideration, and Yuto squeezed him back, before saying a quick goodnight and following their housemates upstairs. For a moment Keito wondered if Yuto really was as okay as he claimed to be, but he did seem genuinely better, and as he was thinking that he felt a familiar arm wrap around his shoulders, looking down to see the thick, striping tattoos and leaning back into Hikaru’s body a little.

“You were going to stop by.” Hikaru’s voice was intimate, right in his ear, and Keito nodded.

“Yabu went in, and I didn’t want to interrupt the meeting. Plus, we had a good time out here. Yuto’s doing better today.” He paused, sighing. “I wish you could have joined us. Did you eat?”

“Yeah, it was good.” The arm dropped after a moment, Hikaru’s hand trailing over Keito’s chest as it fell, and Keito turned around, reaching out and taking that hand in his own, eyes catching on the way their tattoos looked, liking the sight of them both next to each other.

“Y’know when I first met you I never would have pinned you for having a tattoo fetish.” Hikaru murmured, his voice low and slightly joking, and Keito glanced up raising his eyebrows at the teasing, and he found himself unable to resist retorting

“You want to talk about fetishes? What about you and the nipple clamps you keep in the bedside drawer?” He shifted a little closer as he talked, their bodies only a hair apart, able to feel the heat Hikaru’s body radiated.

“You got those.” Hikaru reminded him, but Keito shrugged.

“I’m not the one that they get used on.” Hikaru was smiling, thoroughly enjoying the teasing, and Keito ran his hands up Hikaru’s arms, leaning in and placing a kiss on Hikaru’s lips, a warm rush of anticipation washing over him when Hikaru responded enthusiastically, hands finding Keito’s hips and pulling him closer.

“We’re going to retaliate. We’re going to attack the Wakaba tomorrow.” Hikaru told him when the kiss broke, their noses still touching, and it came out like a confession. Like he was already feeling guilty for the injuries that would ensue because of that decision, despite them not having happened yet. Keito could sense Hikaru’s stress running through his body, and he could still feel their shared anxiety about the future, and sadness over their loss the previous night, and he just nodded, before leaning in for another kiss. As they kissed some of those awful feelings trying to tear up his insides slipped away, and when the small make out session slowed to a stop and Hikaru leaned against him Keito felt exponentially better than he had before it. When Hikaru asked if he would stay, Keito nodded, knowing that at least for tonight, everything would be okay.


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning Hikaru, Yabu, and Yuto all went to check on the underlings immediately after breakfast. Keito got the feeling that Yuto more than anyone else was anxious about how the kids were doing. He’d asked to come along when Hikaru had announced that the trip to the underling housing was happening. Keito meanwhile had a few debts to collect for Yabu and Inoo, and then he dropped the money by the house and went out to stock up on medical supplies, like Hikaru had asked him to do. The kumi-cho assigned most of them small tasks to prepare for that night’s raid, and Keito was glad. He prefered being given a task to sitting around, trying to distract himself from the impending fight and worrying.

He hit up multiple conbinis and home stores, all but clearing out their first aid sections, as well as grabbing a handful of new sewing kits for stitches. When he got home he dumped the bags’ contents out on their kitchen counter, laying everything out and organizing it all by type, but not bothering to put it away. When they got home from the fight they’d need to get it all back out anyway. Yamada, Inoo, and Daiki were sorting through the weapons, sharpening blades and cleaning guns, and after a quick lunch Keito joined them, Inoo sliding a sharpening stone across the table as Keito put his hair up and pulled his knife out of his pocket. Keito got to work, listening as his housemates talked quietly, the conversation and the repetitive motion of the blade pushing across the stone relaxing him.

The kumi-cho’s group came back in the late afternoon, Hikaru immediately calling for a house meeting, telling them that they had twelve underling boys that were going to meet up with them for the raid, listing names, only some of which Keito could put faces to. All of them were on the older end of the age spectrum, and almost all of Shintaro’s group were mentioned in the list, all but Shintaro himself, and Keito frowned, realizing that must mean Ryu’s brother was too hurt to fight. It must not have been too serious, he told himself, or Ryutaro would be there with him, instead of sitting in their kitchen. They ate an early dinner, and all prepared for the fight, dressing in their suits and slipping weaponry into their pockets, or in Yamada’s case over his shoulder. It was different this time, because this time Yuto brought his gun _just in case_ and Keito was pretty sure he saw Yabu slipping a glock 22 into his waistband as well, before they walked out the front door, and into the cold, cloudy night.

He just hoped the guns wouldn’t need to be used. Yes, he was upset. Yes, he was angry for what had been done to them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to kill people just yet. He just wanted to fuck them up really badly. _Really, really badly_ he thought, remembering the dead boys’ bodies he’d had to carry through the streets only a couple of nights previous, a wave of grief and anger running through him like a current. There hadn’t been much of a chance for alone time with Hikaru before they left for the raid, but Keito had managed to slip into Hikaru’s office while his boyfriend had been changing into his suit. There hadn’t been much spoken, but the fierce kisses said everything for them, and Keito fell in between Chinen and Yuto on their way to meet up with the underlings, watching Hikaru from behind as he led them through the night.

The meeting place that had been set up was only a few blocks outside of Wakaba territory, and it was declared their meeting place for after the raid as well, everyone to wait there until the whole group returned before going home. The boys that had been in fights headed by the Kumi-cho before—like Taiga and Juri—nodded, comfortable, but some of the others had uncertainty on their faces. Those boys were quickly assigned partners, to make sure they came back okay, and that seemed to put most of them more at ease.

Keito himself was assigned a nineteen year old kid named Kaito—one of what seemed to be a few boys named Kaito in their little pack of underlings—which confused Keito for a couple of moments, though granted he was all hyped up on adrenaline already, mind racing ahead, focused on the fight to come and not completely on the introductions. Keito’s Kaito was Matsukura Kaito, and he said Keito could just call him by his family name to make things less confusing. He was one of the few that didn’t seem reassured by the buddy system Hikaru had implemented, and as they got moving he barely looked at Keito, his eyes instead focused on the boy that had been assigned to Yamada, his lips pursed, eyes full of uncertainty.

“He’s too sweet for this.” The boy declared, and Keito blinked in surprise, Matsukura’s voice high with fear. “Genta’s too kind and careless for something like this. He’s not—he can’t—” Keito wasn’t sure what to do, or how to respond. He and this boy didn’t really know each other, and it wasn’t like he knew anything about Genta either, but if Genta was the boy with Yamada then he did know one thing.

“He’ll come back okay.” Keito said, turning to look at Yamada and the teen standing next to him. “Yama-chan will definitely bring him back. You can trust him.” The boy didn’t look completely convinced, eyes catching on the scar running along Keito’s neck, and Keito swallowed, a shiver running down his spine that wasn’t entirely because of the cold, and he said “What about you? You need to take care of yourself so he doesn’t have to worry about you.” That seemed to get Matsukura’s attention, and he pursed his lips, finally looking away from his friend. “Did you bring a pocket knife or anything?” He asked, and the boy shrugged. Keito frowned.

“I did, but Genta forgot his, so...he has mine.”

“Here.” Keito dug into his pocket, pulling his own knife out and shoving it in the boy’s hand. “You can use mine. Make sure you take care of yourself and return it after this. It was a gift from the Kumi-cho.” The boy looked down at the knife, fingers playing over the engraving in the twin handles, surprise etched on his face, but the knife, and Keito’s words seemed to have the desired effect. He seemed more focused, less scattered and anxious, and Keito took a deep breath, trying to focus himself. He just needed to fight and make sure this boy didn’t die. He could do that. He took a deep breath, the exhale a puff of smoke in the freezing air as they rounded the last corner and the Wakaba headquarters came into view. The twenty-two of them all scattered as they broke into a run, going at the building from different directions. As they ran, Keito heard Daiki’s rage fulled yell, and he knew that the fight had begun.

Keito quickly met a group of Wakaba members, turning a corner of the building to find them coming out of a side door, still confused as to what was happening, their movements slow. He felt rather exposed without his knife—he’d grown used carrying it after over three years—but he was good with his fists too, and he swung, hitting the first boy he saw right in the throat before he could even comprehend what was happening. The guy stumbled backwards, hitting the exterior wall, and Keito got another punch in, fist connecting with the Wakaba member’s nose, before he felt something solid connect with his lower back.

He stumbled, hands coming out to catch himself against the exterior wall of the building as the guy he’d been hitting slumped to the ground, unconscious. There was another hit to his back, and he hurried to regain his balance, pushing off the wall and turning to see Matsukura run up behind him and kick a Wakaba member, the kid treating Keito to a wide eyed look of panic, Keito’s knife in his hand. Keito reached out, grabbing the guy Matsukura had kicked by the head and shoving his knee into the guy’s stomach, as a fist connected with his face and he stumbled, pain shooting through his jaw.

He cursed, whipping around and getting a swift kick to the gut, shoved into the side of the building, feeling the ice cold concrete exterior scraping against his back. He kicked out blindly, heel connecting with something that felt like bone, and he grabbed the closest enemy, shoving them up against the wall and fisting the man’s hair, smashing his head against the wall a couple of times, the action reminding him of little Ozeki, the boy they’d found dead on their front step, and how he’d had his head bashed in. The thought put a little pit of rage in his stomach, and as the guy slid down the wall Keito kicked him a few times before he felt a blade whip across his back, and he let out a yelp at the hot pain.

He rammed his elbow backwards, hitting someone’s ribs and hearing a sharp exhale in his ear, and he turned and slammed his shoulder into his attacker’s chest, wishing he had his knife as he felt the other guy’s blade whip across his abdomen. His attacker grabbed him by his long hair, smacking his head into the wall. It hurt, throbbing and making him feel rather dizzy, something hot running down the side of his face. He slammed his head into his opponent’s chin, listening to the teeth clack together harshly.

Keito curled his hand into a fist, ramming it into the guy’s chest, the force of it shoving him back a few steps, and it gave him enough space to kick out and knock the guy down, standing on one of his arms and leaning over to grab him by the collar with one hand and punch him in the face with the other, his knuckles ramming into the guy’s skull, busting his nose and leaving his mouth bloody. He struggled at first but eventually he went limp, and Keito scooped his knife out out his lax hand, feeling more secure with a blade between his fingers, even if it was a simple, rather dull switchblade.

Once he’d drawn himself back up to his feet he took a look around. There were five Wakaba members unconscious scattered around his feet, but Matsukura was nowhere to be found. Keito felt a swell of anxiety rise up in him. He couldn’t lose that kid. He scanned the area, but it was dark, the only people he could see two figures brawling off in the distance, one of which Keito recognized as Yuto, even from the distance he was at. Good. That meant he was okay. Keito flipped the blade around in his fingers, twirling it anxiously, and he started searching, yelling into the cold air as he walked, his lips busted and swelling

“Matsukura!” He paused, listening, and after a few moments he opened his mouth to yell again, when he turned a corner and saw the teen backed up against the wall of the building, two tall Wakaba members cornering him, and as Keito watched he lashed out with Keito’s knife, the Wakaba guys jumping back a bit to get out of range. Keito ran over, yelling and drawing the enemies’ attentions away from Matsukura, punching at the first guy he came to, before swinging the knife he stole. His fist missed its mark but the blade didn’t, cutting down the guy’s cheek, and in those seconds Matsukura seemed to regain his focus, lashing out and kicking the guy’s legs out from under him.

Keito left that one to the underling boy, and instead turned to the second Wakaba member, catching his eye and recognizing him as Fukushi Sota, one of the Wakaba’s more recent recruits, one that had really been causing them a lot of problems. Keito swung wide with his left arm, going to cut across Fukushi’s chest, but the taller man blocked his arm, Keito grabbing it and turning, yanking the Wakaba member over his shoulder and slamming him into the frozen ground. It seemed to knock the wind out of the man, and Keito kicked him a few times, before looking over to see Matsukura standing over the other Wakaba member, the guy seemingly unconscious.

Matsukura himself looked for the most part okay. His hands were covered in blood, although whether this was his own or their enemies Keito wasn’t sure. He had a swelling eye, and he seemed to be favoring his left leg, but he was standing, shivering in the cold, and he didn’t appear to have anything too serious wrong with him. While Keito was assessing him, Matsukura seemed to be doing the same thing to Keito, eyes catching on the blood seeping out of Keito’s stomach and running down his face, and he gasped, moving as if to help him.

“Are you good to keep going?” Keito asked, ready to get inside the Wakaba base and really do some damage, but not wanting to put the kid in a position that he thought he couldn’t handle, and at his words the teen stopped, glancing toward the door into the Wakaba base, and after a moment he nodded. He fell into step behind Keito and they made their way inside, the fighting quickly resuming. Once in they met up with Jesse and Kouchi, the two fighting back to back, the way they always did, their movements so in sync it was absolutely stunning, watching them fight. They didn’t stay together long, and as Keito and Kaito moved deeper into the Wakaba base they found themselves running into another friendly face, Ryutaro yelling to them that the group was heading home, and to get the fuck to the meeting point.

Ryu was covered in blood, a long gash on his forehead had bled all down his face masking him in red, and it was alarming, but he was moving quickly, and he still had that overgrown blade he always carried in his hand, telling them he had been assigned to find the rest of their group and get the message out, before continuing on his way through the building. Keito spared him a few moments of thought, but Ryutaro wasn’t acting as hurt as he looked, and so he took Matsukura and started leading the teen back through the Wakaba’s base and out into the night.

It had started snowing while they’d been inside, snowflakes falling thick and fast, immediately clinging to their hair and clothes and melting on contact with the warm blood dripping down their faces. They were breathing heavy, their exhales coming out in puffs like smoke, and Matsukura was slowing down, his left leg seeming to give him trouble. Keito was worried about it, but the boy told him that he’d just twisted his ankle the wrong way, and that it wasn’t a big deal. They made it to the meeting place to find most of their companions already there waiting, and Keito immediately started sweeping the group of faces, doing a head count and looking for Hikaru.

Hikaru seemed to have been looking for him too, his boyfriend catching his eye almost at once, and he passed through the men standing between them, coming to stand in front of Keito, eyes running over Keito’s bloody face with a frown. He himself looked pretty good, most of the blood decorating his clothes and skin seeming to have been from others, not himself, and it was a relief. Keito felt something press into his palm, and it turned his attention away from Hikaru for a moment, looking down to see Matsukura offering him his knife back. Keito took it, and in exchange he reached out, offering the kid the dull switchblade he’d taken off of one of their opponents earlier in the night.

“If you sharpen this one, it could really be nice.” His words came out rather mangled, his swollen lips making it harder to speak, but Matsukura nodded, thanking Keito quietly before darting over to where his friend, Genta, was standing with Yamada, looking like he was just fine. Good. Keito started looking over the faces again, leaning just a little into Hikaru’s side as he did, wanting to touch his boyfriend, but knowing that they needed to stay professional. It looked like most of them were back, Keito counting nineteen including himself, and he frowned. Ryutaro still wasn’t back yet, and they were missing Takaki and one of the underling boys.

It took a minute or two for them to start really getting concerned, everyone’s adrenaline starting to ebb out of their systems, worry creeping in as their hearts slowed down. Keito was just about to start asking if anyone had seen their missing companions when Inoo yelped, looking past Keito and behind his shoulder.

“There they are!” Keito spun around, and sure enough, after a moment of frantic searching he caught sight of Takaki and Ryutaro through the snow, their movements slow and sluggish. Supported between the two of them was a slumped figure, Keito unable to get a look at the boy’s face. There was a rush of movement, Chinen and Inoo hurrying to greet their housemates, while a few of the underlings let out gasps as they caught sight of the kid, yelling

“Kaito!” Keito blinked, furrowing his brow in confusion, and his eyes immediately went to the boy he’d been with most of the night. He was leaning on Genta, his friend’s arm wrapped around his waist to help keep his weight off of his messed up ankle, and they both had their eyes trained on the other underling boy. There was some shuffling of bodies, and then Takaki and Ryutaro were both out from under the other Kaito, and as Keito got closer it became apparent that the kid was unconscious, blood running from a busted nose, his face black and blue, and swollen. Jesse ended up scooping the kid up and carrying him on his back, as a third boy—also, apparently named Kaito, to Keito’s amazement—hovered, alongside Yugo incase the arrangement needed to be changed. Once Hikaru and Yabu did their final head count, Hikaru announced that they were going home to get cleaned up, and the bloodstained mass of boys and young men all started their slow walk home.


	6. Chapter 6

All twenty-two of them made the trek back to the main house, the snow storm picking up as they pushed on, Keito cursing his ripped clothes and cringing as the wind bit at his injuries. It was a huge relief when they finally caught sight of the familiar chipped red paint of their front door, everyone spilling through and into the warmth with a collective sigh. Keito moved into the living room, getting out of the way as the unconscious Kaito—a boy who’s last name was Miyachika, Keito found out, as he listened to concerned murmuring—was lain out on the kitchen table, and a couple of other boys were sat down on chairs and couches.

Hikaru and Yabu began coordinating like they had the night of the Wakaba attack, despite Yabu sporting a noticeable limp as he moved around the kitchen. Keito moved to make himself useful after a group of people descended on their unconscious companion, and he collected some washcloths and ran them under warm water, passing them out to underling boys to clean themselves up, before he leaned up against the wall, his torso demanding to be noticed, pain shooting up and down his spine in constant streams, and he took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way he was shaking and see who he could help.

Miyachika was being tended to, Yuto, Taiga, and Yugo all hovering around him, talking as their hands worked. Ryutaro was being taken care of by Chinen, his tiny boyfriend already having cleaned the wash of blood from his face, and now was stitching him up. Daiki too was getting stitches, the older man sitting at one of the free kitchen chairs as Inoo stitched up a cut running down one of his arms. His injuries didn’t look to be any higher than a four, so Keito wasn’t really worried. Matsukura and Genta had taken up residence in the living room, the both of them sporting matching black eyes, and Matsukura had his hurt ankle in Genta’s lap, one of the other underlings—a boy called Ren, with a bruised jaw and split lip—handing Genta bandages to wrap the swollen and bruised ankle.

“Stone Prince!” Keito turned his head at the sound of his nickname, and he was surprised to see a boy whose name he didn’t know walking over to him, looking concerned. “You don’t look good, let me help you.” The teen said, and Keito shook his head. There were more important priorities right now. Like Yabu. He needed to be seen to, his condition looked much worse.

“I’m only a five or a six, don’t worry about me.” He said, trying to assure the teen, but the boy just frowned, eyes flicking down to Keito’s ripped shirt, to the gash on his stomach, and Keito tried to stand up straighter, but his wounds sent licking shards of pain shooting through his torso as he did, and he sucked in a hiss. Takaki stood from where he’d been crouched, tending to one of the underlings’ hurt hands, and at the noise his head whipped around, catching sight of Keito and crossing the kitchen at once, asking

“Keito! Why haven’t you been looked at yet?” Keito tried to shrug, but another bolt of pain ran through him at the action, and an involuntary whine fell from his lips. Takaki turned to the underling kid that had approached him, and said

“Kaito, get me a clean wet rag, gauze, and a sewing kit.” The teen nodded and hurried off, and Takaki asked, frowning

“Keito, how bad are you?” Keito let his head loll back against the wall, swallowing.

“Like a five or a six. I just have my face, and the usual. And I have two cuts that I think need stitches.” Takaki cursed, moving to help Keito stand without use of the wall, leading him to one of the couches before kicking Jesse and Juri off of it, letting Keito sit. As they moved, Keito asked “How many Kaitos are there?” Takaki would know. He and Yabu spent the most time with the underlings out of anyone in the house. Takaki shot him an unamused glance, but he answered the question, words coming from his lips as his fingers brushed over Keito’s bloodied face, looking to find where the blood was coming from.

“Four I think. The one helping us now is called Nakamura. Now, where are your cuts? The bad ones.” Keito gestured to his abdomen and his back, and Takaki nodded, taking in Keito’s ruined suit and pulling out his pocket knife, cutting through the jacket and shirt to show the wounds. He sighed when he saw them, and it was then that Nakamura Kaito returned, medical supplies in hand. Keito fell silent after that, the underling boy cleaning up his wounds, wiping away the blood, while Takaki sterilized and threaded a needle for his stitches. It turned out that he had a rather large scrape on his scalp up above his left ear, and Takaki had him focus on putting pressure on it to try and stop the bleeding while the older man worked on stitching up the gashes on his abdomen and down his back.

Stitches sucked, and Keito swallowed curses, eyes watering as he scrunched up his face against the pain, but he didn’t pull away, letting Takaki work on him, keeping one hand pressed against his head wound and the other one gripping the back of the couch. The process seemed to take forever, the others all working around them, boys shuffling or limping from room to room, helping each other, curses and words of comfort passed from swollen lips, and Keito did his best to keep quiet and be tough. He had been hurt worse than this in the past. He would be fine, no need to make a fuss about it. Finally, with a sigh Takaki finished his last stitch, and he ordered Nakamura to wrap Keito’s stitches and head wound, while he got Keito a bag of ice for his busted lips.

By the time Keito was all patched up it seemed that the underlings were pretty much ready to go back home, the boys all standing and gathering comrades under their arms, and within a minute or two they had gone from having twenty-two men in the house to ten. Keito wanted to help with the last of the patching up, but any time he made to stand someone saw him and scolded him, telling him to sit and try not to aggravate his wounds too much. Hikaru met eyes with him once across the space, his boyfriend listening to Inoo talking, looking very serious, but he spared Keito enough attention to shake his head, prompting Keito to sink back into the couch.

Ryutaro was deposited next to him by Chinen, the smaller man telling the both of them that they weren’t to move until after the meeting was over, his eyes full of concern. Keito pulled the ice pack away from his mouth to ask what meeting Chinen was talking about, but he didn’t get a chance, Chinen placing a quick kiss on Ryutaro’s lips before turning away. The meeting Chinen mentioned started after the last of them had been patched up, Hikaru helping a hobbling Yabu over to the couch, Ryutaro and Keito scooting to make room for him next to them.

Keito looked over his housemates as they all made their way into the living room. Yuto looked pretty good, the only visible injuries a minor scrape on his cheek, bloody knuckles, and a few bruises. Hikaru and Takaki looked like they’d fared about the same, much to Keito’s relief. Yamada and Daiki both had bandages down their left arms, and Daiki also had some wrapping his left thigh. Inoo’s hands and chest were bandaged up, and he had a swollen black eye, but Chinen seemed to be for the most part okay, a slight limp in his walk that Keito couldn’t see the cause of. They had fared pretty well all things considered, and he was feeling that the night had gone okay, when Hikaru opened his mouth, and declared

“Wakaba Ichinojo was there.” Keito felt his mouth go dry at the statement, and he didn’t seem to be the only one, Daiki letting out a string of curses and Ryutaro tensing up next to him. But a couple of their housemates didn’t react at all, and he realized that something had happened during the raid that he hadn’t been privy to. Hikaru was visibly tense, frustration written in the furrow of his brow and the clench of his jaw, and he took a deep breath, continuing on to say. “A couple of the underlings saw him in the fight tonight, as well as Inoo, and Chinen.”

Keito reflexively glanced over at Inoo, who was nodding, and Keito wondered for a moment if he himself had seen Ichinojo that night. He wouldn’t have known it if he had, he was the only member of their group that hadn’t been around the last time Ichinojo was in the area, but the thought that he could have come face to face with the man that had killed little Ozeki Kafu made his blood run cold. There was a moment of tense silence, and then Yamada spoke up, his words calm, but his hands were running along the handle of his katana, eyes fierce as he asked

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to heal for a few days, and then we’re going to find out why the fuck he’s returned, what the fuck he wants, and beat his ugly face in.” Hikaru’s words were met with nods and more muttered curses, and then after a pause their leader sighed and said “It’s been another long night. Everyone worked hard, and we’re all tired. We can continue this talk tomorrow.” Keito found himself nodding along in agreement, the acknowledgement of how tired they all were bringing his own fatigue to the forefront of his mind.

He hurt and he was exhausted, his head pounding, body tender, wounds still sending shoots of pain running through his torso at every small movement. He found himself just sitting there, watching as the rest of his housemates got to their feet, for the most part silent as they started toward their bedrooms. He didn’t have the will to move just yet. Keito let out a small whine, tossing his ice pack onto the coffee table, his swollen mouth feeling sufficiently numb.

Hikaru finally looked over at him, and Keito tried to muster up a smile, but it was hard to move his lips, and his boyfriend swooped in, pressing his own lips to Keito’s cheek, the touch feather light so as to not aggravate any of Keito’s injuries, and he ran his fingers over the bandage wrapped around Keito’s head, eyebrows furrowed. It was then that Keito noticed a couple of Hikaru’s fingers had been wrapped up together, and he reached up, snagging the hand from his face to get a good look at it. It had black bruising all along the joints, and it looked like he’d broken three fingers. Keito cleared his throat, asking

“How are you?”

“I’m a two or a three. Really, nothing to worry about Keito.” Hikaru assured him, and Keito nodded, taking a deep breath and yawning, feeling it pull at his stitches just a little, pain running through his chest. He winced, and Hikaru noticed, giving Keito’s hand a squeeze, before saying quietly “You should go to sleep. It’s late, and you need the rest. You need to go to bed and stay there for a few days.” Keito sent him a look. A few days? He really didn’t want to be confined to his bed. Hikaru seemed to understand the disagreement, and he just said “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?” Keito nodded, and he wanted to kiss his boyfriend, wanted to feel Hikaru’s lips against his own, but he knew that in his current state it wouldn’t go how he wanted it to, and so he just stood, running one hand over Hikaru’s cheek and letting out a small sigh.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He said quietly, and Hikaru nodded, giving Keito a long affectionate glance before calling over Keito’s shoulder

“Yuto!” Keito glanced back, to where sure enough Yuto was standing by the stairs, watching and waiting, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I want you to help him to bed. And try to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself any more than he already is.” Hikaru’s words were met with a nod, and Yuto bridged the space between them, eyes on Hikaru as he spoke.

“I really wanted to talk with you, Kumi-cho.” Hikaru pursed his lips, letting out a small exhale, and he said

“Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, okay Yuto?” Those words seemed to satisfy their friend, and Yuto nodded, taking Keito and sliding one of his arms across his shoulders, careful not to bother Keito’s wounds. Keito gave Hikaru’s hand one last small squeeze, saying a quick goodnight, and then he turned his attention to tackling the stairs, and the ladder to his bunk, Yuto’s support a nice relief, before he finally collapsed onto his mattress, sleep taking him almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Despite his initial protests, Keito was confined to his bed for the next five days, his housemates bringing him his meals and checking on his wounds. Yuto was his primary caregiver, although Hikaru would come up and sit with him whenever he had time to spare, climbing up into Keito’s small bunk with him and talking, their tattooed shoulders brushing. During Hikaru’s visits things almost felt okay, Hikaru smiling and telling him about what the others had been doing in Keito’s absence. The topics of the Wakaba, Ichinojo, and the dead boys, were completely avoided when Hikaru was there. One afternoon however, when Keito was visited by Inoo and Daiki the conversation turned to Ichinojo.

They had been playing chess, Keito against Daiki. Keito’s pieces were being moved for him by Inoo, as he wasn’t supposed to be getting out of bed on his own, and the three of them couldn’t all fit on his twin sized bunk bed. They’d been speculating as to what the Kumi-cho was going to do about the Wakaba when Daiki muttered something offhandedly about bashing Ichinojo’s face in, and Keito saw his chance, asking tentatively

“What exactly did he do, before? What did I miss?” He’d been working up the nerve to ask that question for days, ever since New Years, and as the words left his lips he felt a little anxious. He rarely asked about anyone’s past. His housemates all had skeletons in their closets, secrets and dark things they didn’t want to talk about, and Keito tried to respect their privacy, letting them tell him if they wanted but mostly staying out of their business. But this was different. This was something they had all gone through together, something that had happened before he’d become a part of the kumi, and he wanted to know just what they were facing now that Wakaba Ichinojo was back in the area.

“Hikaru didn’t tell you?” Inoo asked, clearly surprised. Keito shook his head. Daiki sighed. They fell silent for a moment, Daiki moving his rook across the chessboard. It was Inoo who finally spoke, leaning back and looking up at Keito through his bangs, his bruised eye squinting up at him through his swollen flesh. “Ichinojo was the Kumi-cho for the Wakaba back when we first joined, but we haven’t seen him around since 2006. He…he’s brutally aggressive, and has little to no sense of empathy, from what we can tell. He’s the one that allowed Kamiki to keep Yamada as a prisoner—”

“Ryosuke was a fucking slave.” Daiki interjected, his fingers fiddling with the skull necklace he always wore, eyes dark. Inoo nodded, conceding Daiki’s point.

“—slave. But, the main thing is that he’s the one that murdered Taiyo. He shot him during a battle.” There was a long silence, Keito putting the pieces together, remembering the first time Hikaru had told him how Taiyo had died. He hadn’t mentioned who had killed the former housemate, but that action would definitely garner the hatred he saw reflected in his housemates’ faces whenever Ichinojo was mentioned. “We haven’t seen him since the night he killed Taiyo. He just kinda disappeared after that.” Inoo finally said, and Daiki snorted.

“I’d hoped the fucker had died. Painfully.” Inoo sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Yeah. I’d kinda thought Shoon had killed him and just never said anything about it. He never talked about who he killed.”

“He fucking should have killed him.” Daiki snarled, visibly upset, and Keito watched as Inoo treated Daiki to a bittersweet smile, his tone calm and assuring as he said

“Well, maybe now we can do it.”


	7. Chapter 7

Keito was freed from his bed rest shortly after his conversation with Daiki and Inoo, and it was good to be out of his room. He spent most of his time lounging around downstairs, the only times he left the house were to collect payments from the people Inoo had loaned money to. He wasn’t really able to do much else, with the wounds on his torso still tender, his stitches not ready to be taken out for a few more days. His busted lip however had healed up rather quickly and he’d taken advantage, crawling into Hikaru’s bed with him one morning after the Kumi-cho had woken up and pulling his boyfriend in for a lengthy make out session. Not kissing Hikaru had been the worst part of his bed rest, and while yes, his face still hurt a little, it was worth it to have Hikaru’s lips on his own again.

The house was pretty quiet in the days after the raid. Keito hadn’t been the only one that had been prescribed bed rest, and even after everyone was able to go where they pleased they all spent most of their time hanging around the house, eating and sleeping and letting their sore bodies have a break. Hikaru was rather busy, checking in on the underlings daily and making lots of phone calls. Keito called his father after his stitches had been taken out to assure him that he was fine, his dad worrying after Hikaru had told him about Keito’s injuries. Keito ended up spending most nights that he could in bed with Hikaru. They couldn’t cuddle like they usually did, but just having him around was assuring, and it made it easier for Keito to sleep at night.

It was fifteen days after the raid, and they had just finished dinner when Hikaru announced that he had business to attend to, and he left the table. Yuto too stood as if on reflex, and Keito watched bewildered as they both left, headed in the directions of their bedrooms. A glance around the table showed that most of the others seemed just as confused as himself, the only one that didn’t appear to be surprised was Yabu, the older man just pursing his lips and exhaling sharply as he watched them go. Keito almost asked what was happening, but he knew it wasn’t his place, so he kept his mouth shut.

Yuto came back downstairs just as Keito was finishing his meal, and he was dressed in a suit, his gun in his hand. He tucked it into the waistband of his pants as Hikaru emerged from his office, the Kumi-cho dressed in a suit of his own, one of his business suits, black on black, one of Keito’s favorites. He had that heavy weight he’d been carrying ever since the new year written all over him, and that wasn’t all he was carrying, one of his hands gripping a small duffle bag Keito had never seen before, his gaze sharp. Keito got to his feet, crossing the room to talk to his boyfriend, to ask him what was going on, but the look on Hikaru’s face when he finally met Keito’s eyes made the words die in his throat.

Hikaru had a look in his eyes Keito hadn’t seen in years, a nervous, afraid look. It was nearly completely hidden, covered up by determination and anger, but it was there, and Keito wanted nothing more than to wipe it off of Hikaru’s face. He leaned in close, wanting to kiss him, but Hikaru pulled back just a little, the action speaking for him. Not here. Not while he was being their leader. Keito tried not to feel to disappointed by the reaction. He’d known that was what would probably happen. Instead he leaned into Hikaru, pressing his face into Hikaru’s neck and wrapping his arms around Hikaru’s shoulders, and he breathed

“Be safe.” Hikaru didn’t really respond, but he seemed a bit less afraid when Keito pulled away, and he slung his bag over his shoulder, he and Yuto leaving and going out into the cold winter night. Keito couldn’t help but feel worried as he watched them go, and he wanted to pull Yabu aside, to demand to know what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t his place. None of the rest of them seemed to be concerned, and Keito tried to put his worry out of his mind. He was probably overreacting. Those two could most definitely handle themselves, and if Yuto had his gun then they had even more protection than any one of them usually did when they went out. They would be fine.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and when two hours had gone by and they hadn’t returned he found himself slipping on a jacket and whirling out into the night, telling the others that he had a loan payment to collect, hurrying through the door before any of them could realize that it was a Wednesday, and that he didn’t collect on Wednesdays. It was freezing, the wind biting at his face and tangling his hair. He sighed, his anxiety only increasing now that he was out alone, and he started walking, not sure where to look, only knowing that standing still wasn’t doing him any good.

He ran through a list of spots they were likely to be in his head, ruling out places like the graveyard and the underling housing because of Yuto’s gun, and he eventually settled on checking Ikegura dock, and the surrounding abandoned buildings first. The old dock was one of the places the kumi carried out their murders, the isolation and unused body of water making it an ideal spot for dumping remains undisturbed. Keito had only been there one or two times over the years, and he’d never used it for it’s designated purpose, but Hikaru and Yuto knew the place well. As soon as he had made up his mind he changed course, heading out away from town and toward the water, a lump growing in his throat.

He searched for over an hour, the moon rising in the sky as he skirted around abandoned buildings, peering into windows and holding his breath, listening for any sounds of life. He was almost at the dock, able to hear the water from the ocean lapping at the barrier when a pained yell caught his attention, and he turned, feet twisting in the gravel. His instinct was to run toward the noise, his heart pounding in his chest, but he knew that he would lose any element of surprise he had if he ran, and, more importantly, that voice wasn’t one that he recognized as being Hikaru or Yuto’s, something not quite right. He crept in the direction of the noise, turning a corner to see a light coming from one of the trashed buildings.

It was Yuto and Hikaru. Their backs were to him, but they were unmistakable, their silhouettes lit up in the yellow light of a portable lantern, sitting on a ratty looking metal card table littered with all manner of items. They had three young men in there with them Keito didn’t recognize, the men either in their late teens or early twenties, sitting in chairs. After a few moments Keito realized that they were all tied to their chairs, Yuto and Hikaru standing over them, seeming to be talking to them. The men looked rough, faces bloody and swollen, bodies covered in sweat, despite the cold. Keito crept closer, holding his breath as he moved, and he watched as Hikaru picked up a knife from the table, and ran it down the side of one of the men’s faces, the man letting out a scream of pain, blood chasing Hikaru’s blade as Yuto talked, leaning in close to the other side of the man’s face.

Keito was too far away to hear what was said, but it seemed to do the trick, the man talking, as blood ran down his face, into his eye and mouth, and both of his housemates stilled, listening to him, their faces serious. It was a relief to Keito that Yuto and Hikaru weren’t hurt, but that relief barely had a chance to be acknowledged, the scene before him stealing his attention completely. Hikaru and Yuto were intently focused on their captives, and Keito crept closer, getting right up against the side of the building, next to one of the busted windows, listening, trying to hear what was being said.

“—he wants. You know, don’t you?” Hikaru’s voice was calm and cold, and there was a whimper at his words, a small pause, before there was the sound of a fist hitting flesh, and then a scream, and Keito peered through the window to see that the man on the far left now had a knife embedded in his shoulder, Yuto’s fingers still wrapped around the knife’s grip, and as Keito watched he began twisting the blade, his expression hard, eyes empty. Hikaru leaned in, asking “Well?”

“He wants to destroy them!” The man squealed, his face a mess of swollen flesh, blood, and tears.

“Them?” Hikaru asked, Yuto’s hand going still. The man nodded, sniveling, his voice shaky as he continued.

“That Kitagawa kumi! He says they’ve gotten too big—wants to take the territory over, and obliterate it. W-Wipe them out. He-he hates them!” He looked up at Hikaru, his eyes wide. “You-you’re one of them, aren’t you?” His question was ignored, Hikaru turning to the man in the middle, the one Keito had seen him cut before, and he declared

“And you claim he’s doing this now because of the shifts in power with your Kashira?” His question was met with frantic nods, and Hikaru sighed, falling silent. It was in that silence that Keito’s eyes went to the third man, the one in the far right chair, furthest from the light, and he jumped in shock, feet twisting in the gravel, nausea hitting him in a sickening jolt. The man was dead, his eyes wide, head back, mouth open, blood trailing down his battered face from a bullet wound right between his eyes.

The noise made Yuto and Hikaru freeze, and Keito ducked down below the window, breathing fast, fighting down the urge to vomit as he heard footsteps, and then Hikaru’s voice, a harsh snarl so cold that it made Keito’s heart lodge in his throat. It had been a long time since he’d been afraid of this man, the man he loved, but at that moment he was.

“Show yourself. If you try to run I swear I’ll fucking skin you alive.” The words came from right above him, the conviction in Hikaru’s voice numbingly scary and it took Keito a moment to gather his wits enough to look up, able to see the nose of one of Hikaru’s glocks just barely peeking through the shattered glass of the window above his head. For a moment he panicked, feeling scared and sick, and after a few long seconds he found his voice, and called out

“Hikaru.” There was a pause, and then the gun emerged through the window, Hikaru’s grip on it steady, but when his face came into view he was visibly confused, eyes searching, looking out into the night. Keito was crouched below the window, the gun just a few decimeters over his head, and he opened his mouth, heart pounding in his chest, before swallowing and saying once more “Hikaru.” The word barely came out, mostly just a puff in the cold air, but that didn’t seem to matter, Hikaru’s gun training on him in an instant. Their eyes met, Hikaru noticeably tense, eyes wide and full of apprehension, and Keito felt his heart catch in his throat, blind fear dropping on him like a wall of ice.

“Fuck, Keito!” Hikaru breathed, pointing his gun away from Keito and out into the night, finger off the trigger. Keito scrambled to his feet as Hikaru lowered his arm holding the gun down to his side. Across the room Yuto had his gun pointed at one of the tied up Wakaba members, but his eyes weren’t on his victim, instead on Keito, looking just as shocked as their leader did.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hikaru asked, and Keito felt that he could almost ask the same question, as he looked past his boyfriend and into the room, trying not to lock eyes with the corpse in the corner.

“I was worried about you bastards.” Keito told them, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught spying. Hikaru sighed, before gesturing to his left.

“There’s a door on that side of the building, if you want to come in. We just need to clean up here, and we can go home. We got what we came for.” Keito nodded, taking in the bloodied figures tied to the chairs, and the guns in his loved ones’ hands and he asked quietly

“Hikaru...what’s happening?” That question cast a darkness over his leader’s face, some of the fierceness he’d been displaying earlier returning, and he declared

“We’ve been doing some information gathering. Ichinojo has declared war.” He turned away from Keito, back to the table with the lantern on it, picking up a silencer and beginning to screw it onto his handgun. Once it was in place, he turned back to Keito, pointing once more in the direction of the door. Keito took that as his dismissal, and he turned away from the window, walking in the direction Hikaru had indicated. As he made his way away from the busted window he heard screams, pleading yelps, and he felt rather sick, shutting his eyes as he listened.

After a few moments the screams stopped, and when he found the door Hikaru was talking about and made it inside he found why. The other two men were dead, bullet holes in their temples, large, ugly exit wounds in the backs of their skulls, casings on the floor. The room smelled of blood and sweat, and after a moment of trying to fight the rising nausea Keito ducked out of the room, making it into the hallway before vomiting up his dinner. Hikaru came out, placing a hand on Keito’s back and rubbing comforting circles, Keito taking deep breaths before straightening up, muttering

“Sorry.” Hikaru didn’t say anything, face grim, and after a moment Keito turned back to the room with the dead men, asking “How can I help?” When they returned Yuto was packing the items from the table into Hikaru’s duffle bag, but when Keito came in he paused, looking over at him and smiling his usual bright, happy smile, the sight rather bizarre to see surrounded by the carnage in the room. Despite that, it made Keito feel a little bit better. These were his best friends, the people he loved. They’d been doing shit like this for years, and he’d known it. Now, he was just seeing it up close. It didn’t change anything. Not really.

Yuto got back to packing the bag, and Hikaru crossed the room and grabbed his bloody knife off of the table, beginning to cut through the ropes tying the one of the corpses to his chair. Keito rushed to help, taking his own knife out of his pocket and going around to the body on the middle chair, trying to ignore his still churning stomach and not look at the gaping hole in the man’s skull as he got to work. It wasn’t hard, his sharp blade making quick work of the thick ropes, and he turned to the last corpse, giving it the same treatment before he stood, wadding the ropes up in his hand as the corpses slumped a little, no longer held to their chairs. Both Hikaru and Yuto were giving him looks of surprise, but he didn’t want them to worry about him; mostly he just wanted everything to be over, so he asked

“What’s next?”

“We get rid of them.” Yuto said after a moment of silence, Hikaru picking his glock off of the table and beginning to unscrew the silencer as Yuto pointed to some items he’d left out of the duffel bag; steel cables and cinder blocks, and Keito understood. Hikaru tucked his gun back under his suit jacket, and he grabbed one of the bodies, hoisting it up onto his shoulder, Yuto moving to get the next one, and so Keito turned to the last dead man, a shiver running over him that had nothing to do with the cold, and he put his hands under the corpse’s arms, picking it up.

He was still warm, although not as warm as a living person would be, the January chill settling into him quickly. He was heavier than Keito was expecting, but not too heavy, just uncooperative in death. Keito struggled with the body for a moment, blood smearing on his hands and clothes as he tried to get it situated on his shoulder, and it smelled of blood, the smell hitting him and making him have to consciously fight the urge to vomit again. Tears welled up in his eyes, the reaction involuntary, and he took a few deep breaths as he followed Hikaru and Yuto out of the abandoned building and over to the dock.

They dropped the corpses out on the dock, Keito feeling blood smear on his cheek as he pulled the one he had been carrying off of his shoulder, but his hands too were bloody, and he didn’t try to clean it off. Yuto ran back to get the cinderblocks and the cables from where they’d been left, and Hikaru sighed, his breath coming out in a puff of smoke, and he looked over at Keito, his eyes sad. He reached out, taking Keito’s hand in his, their grip bridging the space over one of the dead men, and he said

“I want to tell you everything will be okay.” There was a silence, Keito taking that in. He’d started to feel like things really would be peaceful and happy, and now within the course of only a few weeks everything had been turned on its head. They were at the beginning of a war, and that meant they might not all make it to the end with their lives. He nodded, a lump in his throat, and Hikaru gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry.” Hikaru murmured, but Keito shook his head. This wasn’t Hikaru’s fault. And he needed to quit being a little bitch. It was then that Yuto returned, and Hikaru dropped Keito’s hand, turning to the taller man and reaching instead for a cinder block.

They tied the blocks to the dead bodies’ feet, the metal cables digging into their flesh rather grotesquely, before they rolled them off of the dock and into the water, the corpses hitting the ocean with a loud splat, before quickly disappearing. Keito watched them sink for a few moments, while the other two walked back to shore, Hikaru picking his bag back up, and slinging it over his shoulder, before calling out for him. Keito ran to meet them, falling into step next to Yuto, and together the three of them started heading home.


	8. Chapter 8

The walk home felt long, Keito acutely aware of his bloodstained appearance, emotionally and physically tired. When they walked through the door Keito was surprised to see Yabu sitting up, the older man in his spot at the kitchen table, a glass of whiskey and Shoon’s old photo album in front of him. They all greeted Yabu with small waves, Hikaru and Yuto going to the closet under the stairs to put away their weaponry. Keito didn’t follow them, instead climbing the stairs and going to the bathroom, cleaning his knife in the sink before hopping in the shower to clean his body.

He showered fast, the action of washing himself keeping him just occupied enough to distract from any other thoughts. He emerged from the shower and started brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed, Yuto coming in and joining him, yawning as he got out his own toothbrush. They moved around each other in comfortable silence, before retiring to their shared bedroom, changing into their pajamas and slipping into their beds. It was then, once they were laying in their respective bunks that Yuto said

“Hey Keito, what do you think about Takaki and Inoo?” Keito blinked in surprise at the question, sitting up and looking over at the edge of his bed in the darkness, the closest he could get to looking at Yuto.

“I...I think they’re wonderful people?” Keito offered, not sure what Yuto was asking for, and he could practically hear Yuto’s amused smile at his response.

“I mean, their relationship.” Yuto clarified. “I think they might have something going on.” Oh. That made Keito purse his lips, trying to focus on the topic at hand and not the fact that he had participated in covering up murders only an hour or so before. It was hard, and he didn’t really feel like participating in this frivolous line of discussion, but he tried. Maybe Yuto needed to distract himself from what he’d done.

“Don’t they fuck sometimes?” He asked. It wasn’t really his business, but it was a poorly kept secret that Takaki would occasionally sleep with Inoo and Yabu, separately. He and Hikaru used to fuck too, his boyfriend had told him once, but that had stopped before Hikaru and Keito had gotten together. The whole deal with Takaki and Inoo seemed to be a casual situation, like Keito’s own one night stand with Takaki, but more long term. But he was pretty sure Yuto had known about all of that long before he had.

“Well, yeah, but Takaki and Inoo have been really close recently, don’t you think? I mean, they spend more time together.” Keito hadn’t really noticed it, but when he thought about it he realized that Yuto was right. That didn’t mean there were any romantic feelings involved however, Keito reminding his friend that the two housemates of theirs in question had shared a room for years now, and that the closeness was bound to happen. Yuto sighed. “I dunno. I think there’s more to it than that.” Yuto declared, and Keito didn’t really know what to say to that, so he didn’t. There was another long silence, before Yuto said quietly, his voice betraying his exhaustion “Good night.”

Within minutes Yuto was asleep, Keito able to hear his breathing even out. Keito laid back down, staring up at the black ceiling, fingers finding the handles of his knife in his pajama pants pocket, pulling it out and running his fingertips over the engraving, the feeling of his knife in his hand a comforting one. His body was exhausted, but the longer he laid there the faster his mind worked, zipping over every unsettling event that had happened that night, and the implications of them, a panicked fear beginning to claw at his chest, tears rolling down his cheeks as his mind drew up the images of the three men Yuto and Hikaru had killed, the words that they had said before they’d died, and the darkness those words spelled for their future.

He sat up, giving up on sleeping while he felt that upset. He wanted Hikaru. He wanted Hikaru’s warm arms and lips on his skin. He could go and see if his boyfriend was awake; maybe Hikaru could make him feel better. And if not, maybe he could go and sit in his closet, or pay his respects to Shoon at their little shrine. Anything to stop this awful cycle his brain was in. He slid down his ladder, moving as quietly as he could so as to not wake Yuto, and he left their room, turning and going down the hall, standing at the top of the stairs and looking down to find the kitchen light still on.

He descended the stairs, looking around the corner to find Hikaru sitting up still in his suit. He wasn’t alone, Yabu still there, his whisky glass now empty, tear tracks down his cheeks. They had been talking, but Yabu caught sight of Keito almost immediately, and he fell silent, Keito realizing that he had intruded on something private. He hesitated, wiping at his own wet cheeks, not sure if he should apologize or just turn around and go back the way he’d come. But then Hikaru turned his head, catching sight of Keito, and he got to his feet, the air in the room suddenly indicating that the moment he’d been having with Yabu had passed, and Yabu too got up, closing Shoon’s photo album as he pulled himself to his feet.

“I’ve got to go to bed.” Yabu declared, and Hikaru nodded, saying something about how it would do them all good to get some sleep, running one broad hand across Yabu’s shoulders, and Yabu treated their leader to a watery smile before passing Keito on the stairs as he headed to his bedroom. Hikaru turned to Keito, looking exhausted but happy to see him, and he said quietly

“Let’s go get in bed.” Keito nodded, following Hikaru to his bedroom quietly, but once they were there he couldn’t help but apologize, the words falling from his lips as Hikaru began to undress, fingers fiddling with his black tie.

“I’m sorry for interrupting you. I didn’t realize—” He paused, Hikaru turning to look at him. “Yabu looked upset.” Hikaru sighed, tossing his tie on top of his chest of drawers and beginning to work on the buttons of his shirt. “I...I could go.” Keito offered, moving to get up from where he’d taken a seat on the end of Hikaru’s bed, and that caught Hikaru’s attention, his head whipping up, as he said

“No!” The word fell from his lips at once, an instant reflex, and it caught Keito by surprise, but Hikaru looked serious, and he nodded, the action making Hikaru’s body relax a little. Hikaru slipped off his shirt, beginning to work on his belt, and he told Keito “Yabu is upset, but it’s not because of you, or because you interrupted or anything. It’s just—” He paused, slipping out of the last of his clothes and digging around in his dresser for his pajamas, slipping into them and moving to sit next to Keito, leaning into Keito’s body at once. “Today was Taiyo’s birthday, that’s all.” Hikaru wrapped an arm around Keito’s shoulders, leaning his head on Keito’s shoulder. “He would have been twenty-six. Some years it’s harder than others.”

Keito nodded, understanding. Important dates with Shoon still stung, days like their anniversary miserable and taxing. He didn’t expect them to get too much easier with time. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the first bit of skin his lips touched, somewhere on Hikaru’s forehead, and Hikaru shifted, their faces pressing against each other as his lips searched for Keito’s own. When their lips found each other the kiss was slow and long, tongues nursing comfort into each other in a way that words just couldn’t. It was amazing, and while they did eventually make it under the covers, their lips never stayed apart for long.

As they kissed Keito found Hikaru’s hands in the darkness, rolling over so that Hikaru was underneath him on the bed, and he murmured, feeling a little bit more brave now that he was safe in Hikaru’s bed, his boyfriend’s body pressed up against his own

“It’s going to be okay.” Hikaru let out a small whine at the words, his fingers squeezing Keito’s own tight, and Keito leaned in, kissing him harder, because maybe he could make Hikaru believe it if he acted like he did. And he knew that if Hikaru believed it, then it would become true. Because Hikaru would make it happen. Eventually Hikaru took over the kiss, untangling his hands from Keito’s own to wrap his arms around Keito’s lower back, his lips trailing kisses down Keito’s neck to his shoulder. They ended up falling asleep like that all tangled around each other, Keito barely able to tell where he ended and Hikaru began.

It was hot, and they were a mess of hard muscle and bony joints, but it felt like comfort, and when Keito woke the next morning to find Hikaru’s cheek pressed into his chin, the realization of their position brought with it a surprising swell of emotion. It had taken them a long time to get to this point. This point right here, the two of them together, relaxed and open and in love, and Keito was so glad they had made it. The feeling hit him so hard it made his heart hurt, and as soon as Hikaru was awake Keito pressed kisses to every inch of skin his lips could reach, wanting to make Hikaru understand just how glad he was that he was here. How glad he was that they were together, just as they were in that moment. He wanted to show Hikaru just how much he loved him, the words catching on his lips and in his throat.

Hikaru seemed to understand how Keito was feeling, his response to the kisses just as full of passion and purpose and care as Keito’s were, and it made Keito feel like maybe, just maybe Hikaru was feeling the same way he was. Keito tugged Hikaru’s shirt off, continuing to press his mouth to the freshly exposed skin, trailing his lips over it all, Hikaru’s breath shuddering in his ear. Keito had just reached a nipple when Hikaru whined and sat up, dragging Keito’s clothes off quickly, kicking off his own pants before he pressed Keito into the mattress, Keito’s lips finding his own as Hikaru’s hands cupped his face.

The feeling of their bare skin sliding against each other was more than simply arousing, it was soothing, it felt like they were supposed to be like that, like they had been made to fit against each other skin to skin. It was just right, and what started out as comfort grew into a familiar need in the pit of Keito’s stomach. The feeling had Keito rolling his hips and pressing up against Hikaru, and Hikaru pressed searing kisses to his lips as his hands started running down Keito’s chest, playing along his thighs before working their way back up to his neck, the touch almost tender, and god it was good. Hikaru had always been good at making Keito fall apart with just the touch of his hands, and he took his time, eyes on Keito’s face as Keito fought to keep it together.

Keito wasn’t generally loud in bed, but he dug his fingernails into Hikaru’s back, clinging on, his face scrunching up as his eyes fluttered shut, and he buried his face in Hikaru’s neck. As soon as he did Hikaru stopped, Keito feeling him shift over top of him as one hand stroked his cheek, his eyes fluttering open as Hikaru pulled back, looking at him for a long moment, the scrutiny making Keito start to feel a little self conscious, before Hikaru murmured

“God, you’re hot.” Unbidden affection welled up in Keito’s chest, and he leaned up, catching Hikaru’s lips with his own and running his hands down Hikaru’s chest, feeling Hikaru shiver under his touch, Hikaru whining into the kiss, the sound hot, needy. Keito dug his nails in, knowing how much Hikaru liked that, and the extra pressure made that whine turn into a rough growl. In a flurry of movement Hikaru pulled away, diving for the bedside table drawer, feeling blindly around inside for a moment before he withdrew his hand, pressing the bottle of lube to Keito’s sweaty chest, offering it. Offering himself. Keito shook his head, handing the lube right back.

“I want you inside of me this time.” Keito told him, and at his words a smile broke out over Hikaru’s face, and Keito knew that—more than it being true—it was the right thing to say. Hikaru usually had a fierce confidence to him in bed, something Keito found immensely sexy, and it was subtle, barely present in the way he touched Keito, but this time he wasn’t as sure of himself, the tiniest of hesitations in Hikaru’s movements that somewhere in the back of Keito’s mind registered as doubt. Keito suffered far more confidence issues than Hikaru did, and it didn’t happen often, but in the eighteen months they had been together, on rare occasions Hikaru would have insecurities—fears that he was lacking, that something inside of him made him not worthy of their relationship.

Those fears never been addressed openly, and they had taken Keito a while to figure out. It was something deep seated, something that Keito had occasionally mused probably had to do with his childhood drug addiction and his poor relationship with his parents as a kid, and it seemed to flare up when some moral obligation he felt he should have hadn’t been met. Things like one of them getting seriously hurt, or when he’d do things—things like the murder from the night before—would cause him to question his own self worth.

His words seemed to have assured Hikaru that he was wanted, that he was loved and accepted, more than any kiss could. He wanted to shower Hikaru in praise, to make him understand just how much he was loved, but Hikaru had always responded better to actions than to words so instead Keito leaned up again, running his hands up Hikaru’s back and burying his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair, pressing kisses to his jaw and down his throat as he murmured

“Need you.” Hikaru’s fingers curled around the bottle of lube, and it didn’t take long before Keito got exactly what he wanted, Hikaru hooking Keito’s legs up over his shoulders before he pushed inside of him, the pressure and stretch of it pulling a low moan from Keito’s throat, Keito clinging to Hikaru, fingers digging themselves into his shoulders and holding on. Hikaru leaned over him, watching his face with something remarkably close to awe as he gave him a moment to adjust. Everything after that was Hikaru, Keito unable to think about anything but Hikaru, the way his body fit with Keito’s own, the way Hikaru felt inside and around him, and how like this everything was perfect.

Afterward Hikaru moved as if to roll off of him and into the mattress but Keito grabbed for him, pulling Hikaru so that he collapsed on top of him instead, and it was clumsy and not at all graceful, and it made Hikaru laugh, bright and happy in Keito’s ear. Keito squeezed him tightly for a few moments, breathing in the warm smell of Hikaru’s shampoo and relaxing as he felt Hikaru’s laugh against his chest. They ended up cuddling, Keito snuggled up under Hikaru’s arm, the two of them propped up a bit on their pillows, neither willing to put on their clothes just yet, sharing soft affectionate smiles and murmured words. They fell into silence, Hikaru’s eyes trailing over to the still open side table drawer, and it was then that he said, eyes resting on the handgun he kept inside.

“Keito I want you to learn how to use a gun.” Keito blinked in surprise at the statement, Hikaru looking back over at him, eyes trailing over his face. “I can teach you. We can practice together. You...you might need one.” That statement had a heavy weight to it, and Keito could feel it physically as it fell from Hikaru’s lips. He didn’t really know what to say. The idea of using a gun terrified him, the power in the weapons making his heart stop in his chest, and he froze as he thought about what Hikaru was saying.

“Not just you, I’m planning on talking about it with Yabu today, setting it up so that everyone gets at least some basic training with the guns we have. I just...I need to know that you can protect yourself, that you have one more tool at your disposal to make sure that when we go out, or get attacked, that you will come home.” Hikaru’s words were spoken softly, confessed in a desperate tone, and he squeezed Keito, the arm around Keito’s shoulders tightening, as if to reassure himself that Keito was there, that he was fine, and Keito suddenly didn’t have any doubt as to what his response would be. He nodded, his gaze trailing to the gun in the drawer, but he felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his chest as he said

“Okay.”


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Keito and Hikaru finally got out of bed it was nearly midday, the two of them taking a quick shower together before Yabu stole Hikaru away for a very long meeting in Hikaru’s office. Keito found himself hanging out with the Ariokas, eventually being talked into a two on one sparring match that found him out in the alley with the both of them attacking him—Daiki with his fists and Yamada with the sheathe of his sword. It was a little overwhelming, and while the two of them were holding back, Keito did end up getting a little bruised and battered. He was rescued when Ryutaro and Chinen came out to join in the fun, offering a two on two sparring session, and Keito was more than happy to step aside and let the couples go at it.

He went back in, grabbed his second meal of the day, and sprawled himself across one of the couches, his body sore from the practice in the alley. He had been watching Takaki and Inoo play cards when the door to Hikaru’s office finally opened, and their leader and his right hand man came back out, Hikaru meeting Keito’s eyes almost immediately. He walked around the couch, placing a hand on Keito’s shoulder, Keito tilting his head to look back at his boyfriend.

“You ready to go?” Hikaru asked, and Keito felt his breath catch in his throat, anxiety ballooning in his chest, but he nodded, getting to his feet and following Hikaru out the door past the housemates still sparring in the alley. Once they were around the corner Hikaru said “We’re going to talk about getting everyone comfortable with guns tonight during dinner; I just figured since you already knew we could get you started today. The sooner the better.” Keito nodded, and after glancing around to make sure they were alone he reached out, grabbing Hikaru’s hand and twining their fingers together. Hikaru didn’t object, a small smile tugging at the Kumi-cho’s lips, and Keito felt some of his anxiety wane.

“Where are we going?” He asked, looking around. He knew the territory east of the river pretty damn well, and they seemed to be headed back into the abandoned buildings, toward the ocean.

“The dock.” Hikaru confirmed. “There’s an old warehouse by there that we’ve been using as a beginner’s shooting range for years. Shoon taught me there, and I taught Yabu and Yuto there too. The kumi acquired it officially a few years ago, so we pay bills to keep the place functional to our needs. It’s good. You’ll see.” Keito nodded, trying to take in all of the new information Hikaru had just dropped on him. He’d thought he didn’t have much if anything left to learn about his kumi. He’d been in the group for going on seven years, and he hadn’t had a surprise like the one he’d just gotten in a long time.

He’d noticed over the years that his housemates liked to think of him—in Inoo’s words—as a sweetheart. And a lot of them seemed to work to protect that image they had of him. It was mostly little things, things like telling him they prefered when he didn’t use crude language, despite the rest of them having absolutely filthy speech, that would remind him that in their minds, he was more wholesome than they were. And so he could imagine that some of them, especially Hikaru and Yuto, would try to keep the kumi’s shooting practice a secret to preserve some of his perceived innocence. Perhaps they were right, at the beginning he had been naive, and blind to many of the horrors his companions had experienced in their lives. But he wasn’t eighteen anymore, and he found this blindsiding to be a little frustrating.

Not frustrating enough to dwell on for more than a few minutes however, when his attention was drawn back to the task looming ahead of him when he tripped and stumbled into Hikaru, his side pressing into Hikaru’s own, the harsh outline of a gun hitting his ribs unyielding. It immediately sobered him up, and his grip on Hikaru’s hand tightened as he regained his balance, Hikaru not commenting, just rubbing his thumb up and down the joint of Keito’s in slow, comforting movements as they walked. They had just gotten into the thicket of abandoned buildings when Hikaru took Keito left, steering him through narrow streets and away from the familiar paths before pointing to one place up ahead, rather separate from the others, and said

“That’s it.” It was pretty unassuming, all concrete and steel, dirty windows and an obvious shoddiness on the outside that made Keito wonder just how long the place had been abandoned before his group had stumbled upon it. Hikaru took him up to the front door, fiddling with the lock for a moment before pulling it open, and the door swung wide, squeaking loud in the silence. Keito ducked inside, taking a look around. He’d expected it to be warm, expected the building to provide a relief from the January cold, but all it did was cut out the wind, and he stood there just inside, shivering as he let his eyes wander. It was darker inside, the sunlight that was filtering through the windows muted from all of the grime, and Keito could barely make out anything distinct, his eyes still adjusting to the change. But then Hikaru came in, the door swinging shut behind him, and he walked along the closest wall for a moment, before his fingers came in contact with a switch, and he flicked the lights on.

The place was suddenly bathed in light, fluorescent tubes hanging down from the ceiling illuminating a long empty space, the walls all unpainted concrete, the one furthest away riddled with little divots just the size of a bullet. Keito glanced over at Hikaru, hesitant but curious, and Hikaru gestured for him to go look, before turning away to a row of shelves full of cardboard boxes and what looked to be rolls of tape, Keito’s eyes catching for a moment on a large first aid kit, the sight making his heart leap up into his throat. He walked through the space, eyes wandering, trying to take it all in. This place was a piece of their kumi’s history. This had been one of Shoon’s places, before they’d known each other. This place was where some of his closest friends had learned to kill, and now it was going to be his turn.

He ran his fingers over the divots in the wall, places that bullets had hit concrete. There were a startling amount of them, easily hundreds, mostly in clusters, some sort of target practice, and his stomach was twisting knots as he felt the jagged indentations under his fingertips.

“Keito!” Hikaru called, and Keito turned to see his boyfriend dragging a small metal cart out from one of the corners of the room, a few small boxes on it’s surface, along with what looked like cleaning supplies and the parts to what had to be multiple handguns. He moved to join him, Hikaru meeting him halfway across the room and pulling the cart to a stop. Keito looked over everything, peeking inside one of the boxes to see rows of bullets, and he took a deep breath. His nerves must have shown on his face because Hikaru pulled him a meter or so away from the cart, cupping Keito’s face with his hand and pulling him in for a long reassuring kiss.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Hikaru told him after their lips had parted. Keito was feeling better after that kiss, the nerves in his stomach retreating to a low buzz. “Ready?” Hikaru asked, and Keito nodded. He wasn’t going to get any more ready than he was at that moment. Hikaru turned, pointing to the handgun parts that were lain out on the top of his little metal cart, and said “There are three guns here. Two of them are my Glocks—” He pointed to the two grips and their corresponding parts on the left side of the cart. “—and that one is going to be yours.” He pointed to the one grip on the right side of the cart.

“I figured we could clean them and put them back together, and then afterwards I’ll show you your surprise.” He sounded much lighter and more optimistic than he had almost all day, and while Keito registered that it was probably an act put on for his benefit, he appreciated it, so he didn’t comment. They got to work, Hikaru explaining every little thing to Keito, from what the parts of the handguns were called to how to clean the gun, to which way the slide went on. It was slightly reassuring, just how confident Hikaru seemed, both of his own handguns all cleaned up and put back together before Keito had finished his one, Hikaru helping with his hands as well as his words to get everything done.

As soon as the gun was all put together in his hands Keito had one immediate observation.

“It’s different from yours.” Hikaru nodded, taking it from Keito’s hands and checking it over to make sure everything was as it should be, before handing it back with a satisfied nod.

“This one used to be Shoons; it was the gun your dad gave him after we joined the Kitagawa group.” He paused, and Keito blinked in surprise, looking down at the weapon in his hands, fingers running over the matte black metal, feeling the scuffs and trying to imagine Shoon with this gun in his hand. “Surprise.” Hikaru said, smiling a little, and Keito felt a small smile growing on his own face. It was silly, probably, to give something a higher value because it used to belong to someone he loved, but he did, regardless. “I thought it would be appropriate for you to have it. And not just because of the history; this gun has a safety feature that I think you’ll find comforting. Here, let me show you.”

Hikaru took Keito’s gun and laid it down on the cart’s surface next to his own handguns.

“The rest of us use Glocks. I have my two twenty-twos, Daiki has a twenty-three, and Yuto has a nineteen. Yabu usually used one of my guns when I taught him, so he’s going to be getting a twenty-two of his own too. Your gun however is a Sig Sauer two-two-six. It’s still a semi-automatic pistol, but yours was made by someone else, so it works a little differently.” He picked up one of his handguns, fingers running over it as he talked. “The Glocks don’t have any external safeties, which is one of the reasons I like them so much. There are some built in ones, like the dual trigger—” Hikaru pointed to a the trigger, Keito noticing for the first time that there were two pieces there, instead of one. “—but there’s nothing you have to remember to turn off, or something. You just load, point, and pull the trigger and the gun will go off. Simple.”

Keito nodded. He personally didn’t really like the idea of not having some sort of ‘off switch’, some action he could take to make sure that no matter what, he wasn’t going to hurt somebody. But he understood why Hikaru might like that. Hikaru seemed confident and comfortable with his guns, and having as little to remember as possible was probably good for learning, or combat. Hikaru seemed to understand his train of thought exactly, because the next words out of his mouth were

“Your gun has an extra step. You can decock it to make sure it won’t go off, no matter what, until it is cocked again.” Keito raised his eyebrows in surprise, and he found himself looking down at his gun, eyes running over it, and Hikaru set his own pistol down and picked Keito’s up. “This back here is the hammer.” He said, pointing to a little lever on the back of the barrel, and Keito nodded, watching as Hikaru’s thumb came up, pulling the hammer down until a click was heard. “I just cocked it. Now, if we had any bullets in the gun, it would be ready to fire. As we haven’t loaded it yet, it’s still harmless, and even if we were to pull the trigger, it wouldn’t do anything.” To showcase his point Hikaru turned to the wall, finger pulling the trigger, the gun making a clicking sound as the slide moved harmlessly. He smiled, lowering the gun and pointing to a little tab on the side.

“This here is how you decock your gun. All you have to do is slide this down and back up—” He did, with his thumb, showing Keito, the hammer returning to it’s previous position. “—and now it’s decocked. Easy, yeah?” Keito nodded, and the relief he was feeling must have been visible on his face, because Hikaru had an amused little smile on his lips. He passed the gun back to Keito, and Keito practiced cocking and decocking the gun. It took more effort than Hikaru had made it look like it would, but it wasn’t actually all that difficult, and it wasn’t long before he felt like he had the hang of it. Hikaru seemed to agree, because he took Keito’s magazine off of the cart’s tabletop and passed it to him, saying

“Let’s shoot a few rounds.” Keito watched Hikaru load his own guns, and then he copied him, sliding the magazine in with slightly shaky fingers. He’d gotten swept up in the sentimentality of the present, and for a few moments he’d forgotten why they’d come; why he was being given the pistol in the first place. It was then that Hikaru reached under to the bottom shelf of the cart and pulled out two silencers, checking them over for a moment before handing one over to Keito. Again, Keito copied what Hikaru did, and then Hikaru checked his gun over, making sure everything was how it was supposed to be, before he nodded, smiling, and gestured to the wall.

“Shoot it.” Keito could feel the nerves welling up in his chest, anxiety and fear that he was going to fuck up clawing at his throat as he looked over at the wall, the gun heavy in his hand. He nodded, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth, too big to talk, and he raised the gun up to eye level, hand tight on the grip, and cocked the hammer before taking a deep breath and pulling the trigger, his eyes snapping shut as he did so. It was mostly quiet, and while Keito knew that would happen, it still surprised him. The loudest noise the sound of the bullet hitting the concrete, and after a few heartbeats Keito opened his eyes to see Hikaru standing next to him, eyebrows up in a look of disbelief, and he said, tone serious

“You can’t shoot with your eyes shut, Keito.” Keito just nodded, his heart still racing, and he quickly decocked the gun, placing it down on the cart, feeling embarrassed. He was being a wimp. Hikaru picked his own gun up, pointing it over at the wall, and said “Here, watch me.” He shot off five rounds, the bullets biting the concrete in quick succession. He looked calm, and held steady, eyes on where he wanted his bullets to go, and afterwards he glanced over at Keito, and asked, his tone serious “See?” Keito nodded, and Hikaru gestured for him to try again, Keito making sure to focus on one spot on the wall, and aim for that, before pulling the trigger.

His bullet didn’t make its mark, hitting the wall a little to the right and down, but Hikaru deemed this a major improvement of his previous attempt, and Keito tried to focus on that, instead of how he was still shaking a little. They practiced for what felt like hours, Hikaru telling him that the most important thing was that he get used to the gun first, and they could really start to work on his accuracy after he wasn’t shaking like a leaf. They used a couple hundred bullets between the two of them, and by the end of it Keito’s head was ringing a little, despite the silencers. Hikaru was very patient with him, serious but calm, never upset or angry or afraid as he helped Keito work on his aim, and getting used to the feel of the gun in his hand.

It was a relief when Hikaru declared them done for the day, Keito decocking his pistol, surprised to find that he did feel like he was much more comfortable with his new gun than he’d thought he would be. Hikaru seemed pleased by the work they’d done, an air of satisfaction around him as he and Keito started picking up the bullet casings. After they’d put everything back where it belonged, guns tucked into waistbands, safely hidden under jackets Keito reached out for his boyfriend, Hikaru letting Keito bury his face into his neck and breathe him in. Keito felt exhausted, the emotional turmoil he’d been through throughout the day, as well as the strain practice had put on his body—different from any way he’d used it before—leaving him drained.

“I’m glad you’re doing this. I already feel better.” Hikaru told him, and Keito nodded. This was good. He wasn’t the only one that felt that way. That evening at dinner Hikaru told the rest of them what he and Yuto had learned from their interrogation, Ichinojo’s declaration of war not really surprising any of them, just leaving a hard determination in the room. And as such when he broached the subject of gun training with the rest of the house it was met with nods and serious looks, everyone seeming to be on board with the idea, faces serious. It was decided that they would take turns practicing with their guns, no more than two people a day at the warehouse, and that put Keito at ease. He wouldn’t be going back for at least a week.

After dinner Hikaru and Yabu dug around in the closet under the stairs, pulling out an array of handguns and laying them out for everyone that didn’t already have one, helping them choose which gun they were going to use. It was rather foreboding, Keito feeling that wave of nausea threatening to claw back up his throat as he watched his housemates pick their weapons, faces cold and focused.


	10. Chapter 10

In the next few days they had a funeral for the five dead underling boys. Keito had known it was coming, but he wasn’t really prepared. He hadn’t asked much about the funeral beforehand, Hikaru visibly upset whenever he returned from arrangements for the ceremony. It was a stiflingly somber affair, around a hundred boys and young men from the kumi in attendance. Keito ended up spending most of the day glued to Yuto’s side, trying to help his friend get through the funeral. Yuto had a tough time, tears constantly running down his ruddy cheeks, body quivering with grief and fatigue, and in consequence he was emotionally drained by the end of the day, collapsing into his bed and falling asleep as soon as they got home, not even bothering to change out of his suit.

Keito threw a blanket over Yuto’s lanky body, and he looked down at his sleeping friend for a moment, loosening his tie. He was tired, it had been a long day. He considered crawling into bed with Yuto, the bed inviting and the ladder to his own feeling like a rickety tribulation he wasn’t in the mood to conquer. Instead he ended up sitting down on the floor, his back pressed up against the bedpost, the spot at an angle that he could see Yuto out of the corner of his eye, in case Yuto needed him. The funeral had been horrible—not in its execution, all involved had done a fine job, no major mishaps during the proceedings—it was simply the fact that there had been a need for it at all.

Most of the underlings had taken the same approach as Yuto and had cried throughout the entire ceremony, especially the younger ones. Some of the older boys instead just had startlingly familiar numb looks of misery plastered across their dead eyed faces, and it was those looks that had hit Keito the hardest. Keito sighed, eyes wandering the room listlessly before settling on the lump that was Yuto’s body, processing the events of the day as best he could. His own exhaustion made that harder than it would have been otherwise, and it wasn’t long before he too fell asleep right there on the floor.

He was woken up in the early morning by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. It startled him, and he jolted up, disoriented, immediately going to protect himself. He pushed back away from the hand, eyes searching the room, and it took him a moment to register where he was and why. Hikaru was standing over him, their leader in his sweatpants, his hair mussed from sleeping on it, and Hikaru said

“You can’t sleep on the floor all night idiot.” Keito just blinked, trying to force himself awake. “C’mon, get up.” Hikaru’s voice had gained a hint of affection to its tone. “At least get out of that suit.” Tired, and aware that he wasn’t fully awake Keito nodded, pulling himself to his feet. He almost asked why Hikaru was there, but his mouth wasn’t listening to his brain, only able to get out a few throaty grunts. He stumbled over to his dresser before Hikaru took over, stripping Keito down before rummaging through his dresser and pressing some sleepwear into his chest.

Keito was clumsy, nearly tripping a few times, but he did eventually get the ratty sweatpants on, Hikaru watching him, a small bemused smile on his lips. Keito reached for Hikaru as soon as he was changed, planting a kiss on his lips, and it might not have been the most skilled of kisses—he was still half asleep—but it made Hikaru smile, and Keito murmured a soft goodnight before crawling up the ladder and into his bunk bed. Hikaru watched, waiting for him to settle in, and it wasn’t until Keito had crawled under the covers and lain down before saying goodnight back, Keito barely awake when his boyfriend left the room.

The following day was spent by Yuto’s side, Yuto declaring that he wanted to practice with his gun, before dragging Keito to that empty warehouse. There wasn’t much talking, Keito doing a little bit of shooting, but mostly watching Yuto, trying to gauge just how upset he was. Yuto was a remarkably good shot, his accuracy rather unsettling as he sent plug after plug into the warehouse wall, his eyes cold. That night however, Yuto went to bed early, passing out immediately after dinner, and so after checking in to make sure he really was asleep Keito joined Hikaru in his room with him for the night. Hikaru put him at ease, the two of them snuggling up together under the covers, sloppy kisses placed on noses and foreheads, breathy half tired chuckles shared in the darkness before the fell asleep.

Keito was woken up a few hours later by a fist connecting with his cheekbone. One moment he had been completely relaxed, curled up against his boyfriend’s chest, and the next moment was pain and pure panic. He lurched awake, arms coming up to protect himself, face throbbing, heart pounding, and he scrambled to a sitting position, eyes flicking around for an enemy. His fear spiked when he peered out into the darkness and realized that no one was there. But then Hikaru’s foot connected with the back of his shin, and understanding washed over him as a sharp pang of pain ran up his leg.

Keito threw himself out of the bed, eyes watering from the pain, and he could feel his heart racing in his chest as he looked over at Hikaru. His boyfriend was thrashing, fighting some unseen enemy, his limbs tangled up in the sheets, his body slick with sweat, brow furrowed, eyes still closed. A nightmare. Hikaru had nightmares regularly, apparently he had for years, which was something Keito hadn’t ever had to deal with personally. Keito had them on occasion, but his nightmares were not recurring vivid terrors like Hikaru would have. Still, Hikaru’s nightmares had only gotten violent one other time with Keito in his bed, and Keito wasn’t prepared.

Keito was breathing heavy, the panic and adrenaline that had flooded his system muddling his thoughts, making him feel helpless, because this wasn’t an enemy he could just punch or grab. For a moment all he could do was watch Hikaru struggle, before a pained sounding whimper slipped past Hikaru’s lips, and he realized that doing something, anything, would be better than just standing there.

“Hey, Hikaru.” Keito murmured, reaching out but not actually touching his boyfriend, hands hovering near his shoulder. “Hikaru.” No response. “Hikaru!” He breached the remaining space, managing to dodge a flying elbow and get a grip on Hikaru’s shoulder. He gave it a squeeze, shaking it just a little, and as if in response Hikaru’s left arm connected with his outstretched one, shoving it aside roughly, his right fist swinging in Keito’s general direction, barely missing Ketio’s face. Keito yelped in surprise, the sound embarrassingly loud, and it was that noise that woke Hikaru up, his eyes snapping open, immediately scrambling up into a sitting position. He looked terrified, and Keito moved slowly, murmuring

“Hey. You’re okay, it was just a dream. You’re fine, everyone’s fine.” Hikaru was breathing heavy, positively drenched in sweat, eyes wild. And he stared at Keito for a moment unseeing, before reaching out a hand to him, and Keito leaned in, sitting on the bed and scooting in close. Hikaru immediately pressed himself up against Keito, Keito wrapping his arms around Hikaru’s sweat slicked shoulders, able to feel Hikaru trembling against his chest as his heart raced. Keito took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and cradling Hikaru, pulling him even closer, so that he was half in Keito’s lap. He was able to feel the hot, pulsing rush of blood in his face as it began to swell, but he tried not to think about it, pressing a kiss to the top of Hikaru’s head as he asked

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hikaru took a deep breath of his own, shrugging and sighing, and there was a long pause before he pulled himself up out of Keito’s lap so that he was sitting next to Keito, instead of huddled against him.

“It—it was kinda the usual; you know...dead people—dead, and drugs. Drugs, that I—and I fucking—” Hikaru’s voice was high pitched with stress, and he broke off, sighing again, one trembling hand coming up to wipe at his face. Keito ran his hand over Hikaru’s shoulders, and Hikaru leaned back into him a little bit, Keito murmuring words of comfort until he felt Hikaru relaxing against him. He prompted Hikaru one more time, to see if he wanted to talk about the dream, but Hikaru just shook his head, and Keito dropped the subject. He asked if Hikaru wanted anything, but Hikaru just murmured apologies for waking him up, which made Keito worry about being pushy.

They settled back into the bed, Keito feeling his face throbbing, and he considered getting up to check it in the mirror, and maybe get some ice for it, but then Hikaru tucked his face under Keito’s chin, and he knew he couldn’t leave Hikaru alone. His face was throbbing in protest at his decision, but Hikaru needed him more than his body did. He pressed kisses to the top of Hikaru’s head, and then his lips when Hikaru tilted his face up for Keito to kiss, Hikaru tasting of sweat and tears. The actions seemed to help Hikaru tremendously, and he curled up against Keito’s body, allowing Keito to shower him with affection.

Keito was able to feel Hikaru’s heartbeat slow to its normal speed, his breathing evening out, and he eventually managed to get back to sleep, much to Keito’s amazement. He wrapped his arms around Hikaru and simply lay there for a while, feeling his heartbeat in his face, trying to turn it to keep as much pressure off of it as he could. He was awake into the early morning, unable to relax enough to fall back asleep until the sun was beginning to rise. He wasn’t asleep long however, woken after no more than a few hours to fingertips on his face, and the sound of his lover cursing under his breath. He opened his eyes to see Hikaru leaning over him, brow furrowed, and as soon as Keito’s eyes were open he asked

“Keito, what the fuck happened to your face?!” Keito blinked and groaned, rolling onto his back and reaching up to rub at his eyes in an attempt to dispel some of his grogginess, but as soon as his fingers touched his face he hissed in pain, flinching away. Hikaru was frowning, and Keito looked over at his boyfriend, realizing that his left eye was swollen, not able to open fully. He was surprised. He knew he’d been hit pretty hard the night before, but he hadn’t considered what it would do to his body, too focused on Hikaru to think about the morning after. Hikaru looked rather frantic, and Keito felt concern of his own washing over him, and he asked

“How are you doing?” That question seemed to take Hikaru aback, and he frowned, not answering the question and instead just saying

“Keito, you have a black eye this morning that you did not have when we went to bed last night. That is what fucking matters right now.” He was serious, his tone sharp with anxiety, and Keito was startled by the level of panic Hikaru was displaying. He had a black eye, it wasn’t like he was even bleeding. But he knew that expressing his confusion and taking Hikaru’s concern lightly would not make the situation any better, or help him figure out why he was acting the way he was, so he said

“I’m fine, everything is okay. This is nothing, really. It just...it got rough last night.” Hikaru seemed to be getting more worked up the more he talked, and it wasn’t the reaction Keito had been hoping for at all, until he said “You had a nightmare, remember?” Hikaru stared at him for a moment, his eyes running over Keito’s face, the panic and confusion gone, instead replaced by something grave, and he asked, his voice small

“I did that to you?” Keito could practically taste the guilt in the air as the words left Hikaru’s lips, but as much as he wanted to he couldn’t really deny it.

“You were sleeping. I just was a little slow in my reactions, and you bopped me.” That wasn’t the whole truth either, but it sounded better than ‘you punched me while I was asleep’, and while Keito knew he wasn’t a prolific liar, this one seemed more like a half truth, and he hoped that Hikaru would believe him. He didn’t.

“I attacked you while we were sleeping.”

“It’s not your fault.” Keito assured his boyfriend, reaching out to hold his hand, but Hikaru pulled away just enough so that Keito couldn’t comfortably reach him, and that little motion hit Keito like a brick wall, and he realized that this was a much bigger problem than he’d thought it was. Hikaru was closing himself off before Keito’s eyes, withdrawing himself from Keito in a way that he had never done in the many years that Keito had known him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Hikaru was shaking his head even before Keito had finished his sentence, and he said

“No.”

“Yes it is, it’s—”

“No. No it’s not.” Hikaru was insistent, and he had become very still, his extremities pulled close to his body, creating a noticeable space between himself and Keito on the bed. “It’s not, because I can’t do that to you. I—I’m your partner, and your leader, and I’m supposed to be protecting you, and not just you, but all of you. I can’t be hurting you. That’s the last thing I should be doing, and I can’t—” He sighed, but the action didn’t release any stress from his body, instead it seemed to serve to make him more tense. “I have a role, and as your leader and your partner I can’t be someone that hits you, or hurts you, ever.”

When he stopped talking they fell into a silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity, the seconds weighing on Keito as he struggled for something to say, something that would fix this, and make Hikaru understand that he was putting too much pressure on himself.

“I just—I don’t see it like that.” Keito finally said, and Hikaru looked over at him, his expression serious but neutral. “I don’t think you can take responsibility for protecting all of us, or even just me, all the time. You just can’t expect that of yourself. We are a team. You and I are partners. You didn’t hit me on purpose, it wasn’t intentional—you weren’t even _awake_ for it—and you can’t be blamed for that. I don’t. I don’t blame you, or feel like...like I don’t know, like you let me down or slighted me in some way. One punch in the face isn’t going to break me. I’m not made of glass.”

“It’s not a matter of it you’re strong enough to handle it.” Hikaru protested, sounding himself rather fragile. “It’s a matter of right and wrong, and I shouldn’t hurt you.”

“It was one time.” Keito objected, the words barely out of his mouth before Hikaru said

“It could happen again though. I can’t promise that I won’t do that again. I can’t promise you’re safe in bed with me.” Hikaru wasn’t understanding, Keito realized, frustration beginning to brew in his stomach. He wasn’t picking the right words to make Hikaru understand, and it was upsetting, unsure if it was the limit of language, or his own inadequacy—probably the second one, he thought—that was causing this breakdown in communication. Regardless, it was apparent that he was failing, and the frustration that he wasn’t being understood made him ask, feeling himself becoming upset as sarcasm filtered into his tone

“So what? What’re you going to do, just not let me into your bed anymore?” The silence after that sentence was deafening, the unspoken allowance in the fact that it wasn’t immediately denied making Keito more afraid than he had been at any point the night before, and he felt fear at the silent suggestion of rejection crawling up his throat, and he protested immediately “That—Hikaru I don’t want that.”

“But Keito you’re not safe—”

“I don’t care!” Keito declared, able to hear the watery threat of tears in his voice, the tremble in his tone from his emotions rising, unable to do anything about it. “I don’t care if it happens a hundred more times. It’s worth it if I get to fall asleep next to you. One or two bruises is nothing compared to that.”

“Keito that’s not…” Hikaru was visibly frustrated now himself, a horrible expression on his face. “It’s not good to let me do this—” He gestured to Keito’s swollen eye. “—to you.” It was then that Keito finally understood, something clicking in his brain and he realized what was making Hikaru so reluctant to let this incident go. He took a deep breath, hoping he could find the right words, and he looked at Hikaru, waiting until Hikaru looked back at him before he said

“I am not a victim here. You are not abusing me. This is not some sort of battered wife syndrome, or some other unhealthy thing you have to try and save me from.” He took a shaky breath, but it didn’t calm him down, and he could feel the tears welling in his eyes, and he hated it. Hated how much of a crybaby he could be. “You and I—hell, all of us—with the shit we’ve seen and done, the occasional violent nightmare is to be expected. It’s what happens to people like us, and that’s okay. It doesn’t make you bad, or make me _weak;_ it’s just something we can deal with, and work on together. I just...I don’t want to stop sharing a bed with you, nightmares or no. Ever.”

He paused, feeling a tear roll down his cheek, and he wiped at it furiously, ignoring how that action made his face flare up in pain, and he asked, suddenly afraid, because he didn’t know what more he could do.

“So...so that’s what I want. What is it that you want, Hikaru?” The silence was heavy, and Hikaru shifted in his spot on the mattress, jaw clenching and unclenching a few times before he finally said

“I—fucking hell, Keito. I want you to stay. I want to keep waking up next to you.” Keito nodded, relief hitting him hard, and he asked, voice watery as the tears began coming full force

“Can, can I kiss you now?” Hikaru nodded, and a tear rolled down his own cheek, Keito reaching up to wipe it away, before leaning in and pressing his lips to Hikaru’s, melting into his boyfriend, the tension draining away as he kissed him. As soon as the kiss broke Hikaru moved to sit next to Keito, immediately wrapping his arms around Keito’s shoulders, and Keito leaned into him, the tears a release, and they just wouldn’t stop coming. It was cathartic, and in the back of his mind he knew that the lack of sleep and the stressful past few days were more so reasons for the crying than the argument with Hikaru was. That had simply been the catalyst.

He cried for almost an hour, before it eventually slowed and stopped, and after it was over he apologized for being a fucking baby, Hikaru laughing and brushing his hair away from his face, before leaning in to kiss him. Keito scrunched his face up, pulling back a little, and Hikaru blinked in surprise, before Keito said

“I’m all gross.” Hikaru chuckled at that, shaking his head bemusedly, and he leaned back in, love in his eyes as he assured him

“I don’t care.”


	11. Chapter 11

Keito and Hikaru eventually pulled themselves together and got out of bed, wandering into the kitchen to find Yuto and Yamada already up, the two of them talking lightheartedly in front of the stove. They were shocked by Keito’s appearance, both flocking to him with curses and exclamations of surprise, Keito immediately moving to reassure them. Keito got much the same reaction from the rest of his housemates, and it played out again and again as they woke up and came down the stairs one at a time throughout the morning. The concern shown for Keito, and the looks shot Hikaru’s way after their housemates found out what had happened were making Hikaru visibly upset, guilt all over his face, and so when Daiki and Inoo left to go practice with their guns Keito grabbed Hikaru and followed them out the door and into the alley.

It was cold, the January chill turning their breath to fog when it hit the air, but Keito ignored the weather, turning to his boyfriend as soon as Daiki and Inoo had rounded the corner and asking him to spar, his hands automatically curling into fists and coming up defensively. His ploy to distract him didn’t slip past Hikaru, but the Kumi-cho didn’t mention it, instead just adjusting his stance and gesturing for Keito to come at him. As they sparred the cold didn’t feel so bad, Hikaru visibly relaxing, despite continuing to stay solely on the defensive.

Keito worried a little about Hikaru’s hesitance to even feign a punch in his direction, but he figured it would be best to wait a few days and see if this new cautious timidity was just an immediate reaction to the events of that night, or if it was going to be a more permanent fixation. Besides, he still didn’t know what Hikaru’s dream had been about. After about twenty minutes they were joined by Yabu, Hikaru’s right hand man coming out and watching for a few moments before offering to switch places with Keito and give him a break. Keito nodded, stepping back and leaning against the brick of the exterior wall, watching as Yabu smirked, Hikaru raising his eyebrows at him in an amused fashion before fists flew.

It was Yabu that really put Hikaru through his paces, the two of them focused, all hesitation out of Hikaru’s stance as they circled each other. It was fun to watch, the comfortable, familiar way they moved and the amusement in their eyes speaking to their long friendship. It was rather inspiring, just how close they were, and how well they knew each other, and while sometimes it made Keito just a little jealous, the fact that Hikaru was kissing him, not Yabu, washed those moments of jealousy away. After a few minutes of pure entertainment as he caught his breath Keito got serious, watching their technique and trying to learn. He was so focused that he almost didn’t see the man with the gun turn the corner.

He reacted on reflex, jumping up, diving for his housemates as a yell passed his lips. There was the sound of a gun going off, the crack of the gun deafening, Keito’s ears ringing with it, barely able to hear himself think as he scrambled from where he’d landed half on top of Hikaru, one leg having tripped Yabu up in the process, all three of them on the asphalt. He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that none of them seemed to have taken the bullet, and the relief was heady until Yabu pulled a gun out of his waistband and began shooting back before he’d even gotten up all the way. Keito didn’t know what to do, fear making him freeze up. Hikaru, in contrast, took the chance while Yabu was holding the enemies’ attention and ran toward the attackers, Keito’s heart in his throat.

He couldn’t hear anything, ears still ringing with the sounds of gunfire as their front door burst open and their housemates started bunching up on the landing, everything movement, the smell of fear and the ringing in his ears overwhelming for a moment, but then Hikaru collided with one of their attackers—an unfamiliar man, the one that had fired that first shot—throwing a fist and grabbing out for the gun, and the weapon fell, skittering across the pavement. It was that action that snapped Keito out of his stunned stillness, reaching into his pants pocket for his knife as he peeled away from Yabu’s side and toward their attackers.

He flicked his blade out as he moved, eyes already searching for a target, fingers moving deftly over the twin handles of his butterfly knife, the familiar weight of it comforting in his hand. He recognized a few of their faces, the Wakaba members wearing smug looks, looks that put a burning anger in the pit of his stomach, and he clenched his teeth as a couple of them moved to meet him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his housemates moving to join the fight, barely registering that before swinging out with his left fist, aiming at Seto Koji’s face before crossing with his right, his blade held in that hand, cutting up his opponent’s chest. He heard another shot ring out as he felt a knee sink into his stomach, but he didn’t let it slow him down, pressing his opponent into the exterior wall, boxing him in on the cold brick, and he ran his blade into the guy’s shoulder, feeling it hit bone as a scream passed his enemy’s lips.

He felt hands on his shoulders, pulling him away and forcing him around, and he kept his grip on his blade, pulling it out of Koji’s shoulder and taking it with him as he felt a punch to the face. It was jarring, and his neck snapped out with it, his teeth sinking into the inside of his cheek. He tasted blood, feet stumbling a little as he struggled to get his footing. He tossed his knife up, passing it between hands and slicing at the air, not really expecting to meet flesh, just buying some time to pull himself together. He took a deep breath as another shot rang out in the space, before throwing his fist, hitting his enemy in the shoulder before kicking out, catching his foot on the man’s knee and feeling something pop.

The man stumbled, falling, and Keito caught his chin with his own knee as he went down, able to feel the man’s teeth clack together forcefully, before Keito kicked at his side, stepping over him and looking around, looking to catch sight of the rest of his housemates. Yamada was easy to spot, Daiki’s husband had a ring around him, the Wakaba members keeping their distance, trying to find an opening to slip past the blade of his katana. Yuto was with him, back to back, Yuto throwing the occasional punch, neither of them looking hurt. He spotted Yabu and Chinen fighting as well, no guns in sight, before there was a hand on his shoulder, and in reflex he reached out, twisting his attacker’s arm as he turned around to face, of all people, Takaki.

Takaki cursed, his face scrunched up in pain, and Keito immediately let go, bewildered, as Takaki asked, voice shaky

“Where’s Inoo?!” Keito barely had time to register the question before there was another hand on him, this one not nearly as friendly, and he grabbed his attacker’s wrist, pulling them close and kneeing them in the stomach, as he wrapped his free arm around their head, putting it in a lock. They went down fast, Keito’s blade cutting through their cheek as they hit the ground. He put a foot on their back, holding them on the pavement as he turned his attention back to Takaki, asking

“What?!”

“He’s missing, I was trying to look, but—” Keito suddenly remembered just where Inoo was, the words coming out of his mouth before Takaki even finished talking.

“He’s with Daiki! They’re out!” Instead of responding Takaki grabbed Keito by the shoulders and threw him against the side of a building, the blade of a knife whipping past his face, just barely missing it, Takaki following through with a punch to Keito’s attacker’s face, knuckles meeting the enemy’s nose with a harsh sound, Keito’s heart up in his throat. Keito pulled himself up, turning so that he and Takaki were back to back, kicking out as Wakaba Ryuya threw himself in their direction with a yell, catching him in the chest and sending him back the way he’d come, as Takaki said, tone rather apologetic

“I’d been doing a head count but I couldn’t find him and you were closest and I—” Keito stopped listening when Ryuya gained his footing, slamming his fist into their attacker’s throat before whipping his blade across the older man’s outstretched arm, glad for his longer reach. It only took a few more hits before Ryuya was down, and when Keito looked up he found that the fight was coming to an end. The Wakaba were in retreat, and he leaned against Takaki’s back, watching as their enemies picked themselves up off of the cold pavement and ran, his breath coming in deep gulps, the cool air a shock to his hot lungs.

Once the last of them had turned the corner Keito flicked his knife closed, stowing it away in his sweatpants pocket, and he pulled away from Takaki, turning to look at his friend. Takaki wasn’t watching him, his eyes instead trained on Chinen and Ryutaro, the two younger men talking to each other, bloody hands intertwined. Takaki was watching them carefully, and Keito resigned himself to being ignored, checking Takaki over as well as he could without disrupting his housemate’s train of thought, before turning to look for Hikaru. It took him a few moments to find his leader, the older man down on one knee next to Yabu’s thigh, while Yabu leaned against the side of their building, his face scrunched up.

Keito moved to go and see what had happened, fear for Yabu curling tight in his gut, but Yuto got there first, Hikaru standing and taking one of Yabu’s arms, draping it across his shoulders. Yuto took post on the other side, and they moved to go back into their home. Keito fell into step behind them, Yamada after him, and they all filed into the house in a stunned silence, no one talking until Hikaru and Yuto had Yabu sitting in a chair, Yuto’s hands pressing on a spot on that same thigh Hikaru had been examining earlier, his fingers stained red and Keito got the chance to ask

“Yabu, what happened?!” Yabu’s teeth were gritted, eyebrows furrowed together, and he grunted out

“Shot. Not bad.” Hikaru had rushed off to get the first aid kit, and so Keito got his knife back out, going over and beginning to cut away at Yabu’s sweatpants. The rest of them all got busy tending to each other, and Keito glanced over at Yuto, afraid. So afraid.

“It’s really going to be okay Keito, the bullet just grazed him. See?” Yuto lifted his hands for a moment, and Keito glanced down at Yabu’s thigh, the flesh of it stained bright red in his blood, and yet despite that he did see what Yuto was talking about. There was no gaping hole, or mangled muscle, like there had been when Chinen had been shot. This was just a track of flesh missing, that while still nasty, was definitely not life threatening. Relief was heady, and he nodded, Yuto moving to put pressure on the wound, Keito too getting back to work, as Hikaru returned. Together they cleaned Yabu up, disinfecting the marred flesh and getting the bleeding under control before wrapping his thigh in gauze, the wound not suitable for stitches.

Yabu seemed to be the one that had been hurt the worst. Keito had taken the punch to the side of his face that had already been bruised, and he could feel the swelling growing, much to his dismay. They all had minor scrapes and bruises, Ryutaro had a cut on the back of his arm that needed a handful of stitches, but overall they had fared fairly well. They cleaned each other up rather quickly, everyone sitting around the living room afterwards, talking quietly, most of them pressing ice to bruises blooming somewhere on their bodies. There was some tension in the room, everyone shaken up by the unexpected attack, and Keito leaned around where he’d ended up on the couch to look over at Hikaru, their leader quiet, leaning into Yabu, eyes on the bandaged thigh.

“Takaki, Yamada, how are you?” Hikaru asked after a few minutes, the both of them turning from where they’d been talking with each other. Takaki shrugged. Yamada on the other hand ran his fingers over his sword’s blade, before tossing the cloth he’d been using to clean it onto the coffee table, and said

“Pretty good.” Hikaru nodded, before saying

“Good. Yama-chan, I want you to go and check on the underlings. Make sure we were the only ones the Wakaba hit up.” Yamada nodded, getting to his feet, and Hikaru turned his attention to Takaki, saying “And can you go and retrieve Daiki and Inoo? I’m sure they’re fine, but I want to run an idea by you all, and I’d prefer it if everyone was home.” Takaki nodded immediately, enthusiasm in his actions as he got to his feet, the two of them quickly going out into the sunshine. They fell back into a near silence, and after a few moments Keito’s stomach growled. It was barely lunchtime. The noise made Yuto giggle, which in turn put a smile on Keito’s face, and together they retreated out of the living room and into the kitchen, where they got to work making sandwiches for everyone, simple things with meat and cheese and whatever else they had in the fridge, before returning with a platter.

The food helped tremendously. Everyone was noticeably more relaxed after they’d had something to eat, even Hikaru smiling a little when Keito caught his eye. It wasn’t long after they’d finished when Yamada returned, announcing that the underlings were fine, that news pulling some tension out of the room that Keito hadn’t even been aware they’d been holding. Yamada snagged a sandwich and sat himself down next to where Chinen and Ryutaro were curled up on the couch, Chinen leaning into his younger boyfriend’s shoulder and whispering into his ear. He’d barely taken his first bite when Daiki came bursting through the front door covered in sweat, chest heaving, fear and anger in his voice as he yelled

“Ryosuke?!” His husband turned, waving the hand that wasn’t holding the sandwich, and Daiki immediately skirted the edge of the couch, everyone opening their mouths, talking over each other and assuring him that Yamada was fine. He didn’t seem to hear them however, falling to his knees in the small space between the couch and the coffee table, hands hovering over Yamada’s body as his eyes ran over his face, searching it for proof of any harm. Yamada smiled, holding his arms out for a hug, and he swallowed his food, saying

“I’m really fine Dai-chan.” Daiki let out a string of curses, throwing himself into Yamada’s arms, clinging to him and taking deep shuddering breaths, and it was during this hug that Takaki and Inoo returned home, looking much less winded, and Takaki called across the room

“If you’d just let me finish before running off I would have told you he was fine, shortie.” Daiki threw some choice curse words Takaki’s way, but they only made the older man smile. They all got settled around the coffee table, Daiki and Yamada squished up on the end of one couch, while Takaki and Inoo resigned themselves to seats on the floor. Hikaru finally addressed them, turning from a murmured conversation with Yabu and saying

“This was a surprise.” There were nods and sounds of agreement, and he sighed. “It turned out well for us, but that was just luck. We weren’t prepared for something to happen at this time of day. This could have been a total disaster.” Those words were met with silence, the harsh truth of them something none of them really wanted to address. “I’m proud of you. Despite being two people short and totally taken by surprise we escaped pretty much unscathed, and that’s no small feat. However, we need to be prepared for an attack at any time, no matter what. I know we’ve just started practicing with our guns, and that you all aren’t necessarily comfortable with them yet—” He met Keito’s eyes as the words passed his lips, and Keito felt a twinge of nervousness in his stomach.

“—but I want everyone carrying their guns at all times, in and out of the house. At night they can be stored in bedside tables or under your pillows, but I want you armed. If the whole of the Wakaba had shown up with guns today it could have been the end for us. We can’t make it that easy for Ichinojo to slay us like livestock.” There was anger in his tone, an underlying layer of contained hate and rage under the controlled words, and it made Keito’s nerves spike, but he nodded, agreeing with the rest of them to do as Hikaru requested. “This is a war. It’s not over until Ichinojo is dead, and I want that to happen as soon as possible. So, we’re going to train, practice with our guns, and as soon as everyone is comfortable with them we’re going to hit them back, and with any luck the son of a bitch won’t make it out this time.”

His words were met with sounds of agreement, and after a long moment he waved his hand, getting to his feet and wrapping an arm around Yabu’s waist, moving to help him to his bed. The dismissal was clear, and they all scattered, moving to retrieve their guns from where they’d stashed them. Keito’s was in his sock drawer, and he pulled it out, checking the barrel and loading a magazine, but leaving the chamber empty. He tucked it into his waistband right at his lower back, his stomach sinking as he felt the cool metal against his skin. He felt rather sick, the weight of his pistol instilling a solid dread in his chest.


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of January was relatively quiet, Keito’s swollen and bruised face returning to normal by mid February. Yabu insisted that he didn’t need bed rest, the older man hobbling around the house for a few weeks, as his leg healed. They sent groups of three to the warehouse to practice their shooting every day, and those that weren’t practicing with the guns were sparring in the alley, or working with the underlings to help improve their fighting skills. Days that he spent with the underlings were especially poignant for Keito, the kids skills so far behind those of himself that their attempts at hurting him would have been cute, if the situation wasn’t so dire.

Keito worked for the most part with the littler boys, the boys that really just needed to learn how to keep themselves from getting hurt, to use their tiny bodies as a way to keep out of their attackers hypothetical hands, and it was hard sometimes, to tell them not to cry, or to grab them when they left themselves open. He was being too sensitive, too soft, and he would catch some of the others watching him sometimes, and he knew he should push the boys harder, and sometimes he did, but other times he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had never considered himself an authority when it came to fighting, his own skills still far below those of some of his housemates, and the awe with which some of the kids looked at him made him a little uncomfortable. Made him fear for their lives.

Despite all of the changes to their routine, some things did stay the same. Yabu still took rent on the last Wednesday of the month, and Keito still was collecting debts for Inoo twice a week. They still played cards at night, still gambled and joked and ate dinner together, but the quiet moments at the end of the day felt a little more desperate, a little more hyper sensitive, and Keito felt that the tension could be attributed to the handguns that sat at everyone’s places at dinner, next to their spoons, and the constantly bruised knuckles, and the headcounts Yabu did every night at dinner. It was the underlying knowledge that this peace was only temporary, even more so than it had ever been before.

Keito was getting better with his gun, the feeling of it in his hand becoming more natural with every passing day. He shot hundreds of rounds into the warehouse wall, and every day he did he could feel himself figuring out what to do, and how to do it faster. It made him uncomfortable, just how normal it began to feel to run his hands over the weapon, taking it apart and putting it back together something that was practiced so much that he could do it without thinking, his hands moving on their own. The weight of it, the sounds it made, everything about his gun began to feel more like a tool and less like a death machine.

It was the third Friday of the month, only a few days after Valentine’s when over dinner Hikaru announced that he felt they were ready, proposing that they attack the Wakaba that coming Tuesday. He was right, Keito knew he was, and so he nodded along with the others, his eyes coming to rest on his gun. All they had to do was kill the man that wanted them dead and it would all be over. He missed the lighthearted guitar lessons and missed a giggly, carefree Hikaru in bed with him. Missed peace. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be viewing the death of another man as a positive event, but with everything that had happened over the past few weeks he was surprised at how necessary it felt to kill Ichinojo.

Feeling that someone deserved to die and actually acting on that notion were two very different things however, and when Tuesday rolled around Keito found his resolve wavering. His apprehension must have been written all over his face, because that Tuesday morning while he was eating breakfast Ryutaro glanced over at him from across the table, the younger man’s eyes wide, face expressionless as he looked at him for a few moments, before he said

“Keito, get out of your own head.” Keito turned to look at him, surprised. “You of all people cannot go into this fight tonight with any reservations, or hang ups. You look like someone just told you that you’re getting a leg amputated.” Ryutaro sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “What in the fuck is your issue? Did you and Hikaru get into a fight or some shit?” Keito blinked, so taken aback by the scrutinizing concern that all he managed to say was

“No.” Ryutaro nodded, before a frown curled his lips, and he said rather vehemently

“If it’s some stupid minor distraction I am going to beat your ass. We’re taking the guns this time, you can’t be fucking around. Someone tell you that you’re starting to look like a woman with that long-ass hair or what?”

“No!” The word came out fast, Keito hasty to defend himself. “Nothing like that, I just...it’s the guns.” He paused, Ryutaro’s flash of anger had disappeared as soon as he spoke. “I told myself that if we could just kill this Ichinojo bastard, then everything will all be over, but…” He could feel himself getting increasingly more anxious the longer he spoke. “But...I don’t know if I could do it. Can do it.” He fell silent, Ryutaro sighing and looking down at his plate for a long moment.

“I don’t either.” Ryutaro told him. “I’m not going into this tonight expecting you to shoot Ichinojo, even if you get a chance. I frankly cannot imagine you shooting anyone—not because I think you’re bad with your gun, because I saw you last week at the warehouse and I know you’re not—it’s just not in you. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. No one here is expecting anything from you tonight except to not die and maybe kick a little ass, which we both know you can do.” Keito nodded, Ryutaro’s expression hardening as he said

“But, that bastard nearly killed my brother, and whether he was the one that pulled the trigger or not he’s the one responsible for the murders of those five boys on New Year's. He’s the one responsible for taking Taiyo from us. He is threatening to take us out, to take the people I love away from me. He’s a sick, sadistic son of a bitch, and I know thinking about everything he’s done, all of the hurt he’s caused, that strengthens my resolve.” His face had gone completely stoney, and Keito nodded as Ryutaro sat back up, the two of them resuming their breakfasts in silence.

It was good advice, Keito thought, and as he suited up that night for the raid he ran over their little talk in his mind. Ryutaro was right, it did help him to feel more battle ready to think about all of the horrors that the Wakaba had put them through over the last few weeks. He wasn’t the only one, Yuto sitting with him, the two of them cleaning and assembling their guns together in their bedroom, Yuto more somber than Keito had seen him since the underlings had been attacked. They all remained mostly silent on the way into enemy territory. They weren’t taking any underlings this time, and Keito was glad; less people to worry about getting hurt.

It was freezing, snow falling sideways in the wind, a harsh bite in the air tearing at his lungs, the metal of his Sig Sauer cold despite being pressed up against his body. As soon as they caught sight of the Wakaba base they all split up, going in their own directions. Keito fought the urge he had to keep an eye on Hikaru, or Yuto, or anyone, really and reminded himself that they were very capable of handling themselves. So instead he took off toward the western side of the building, heart in his throat, ears straining for any noise as he dug his knife out of his pocket, flicking it open deftly, before grabbing the closest door and wrenching it open.

He didn’t usually end up on this side of the Wakaba building, preferring to stay closer to the bay side, and as a result it took him a moment to realize just where he was. Those few seconds of disorientation almost cost him, a fist swinging out from around the other side of the door he’d just opened, barely missing his face. He stepped back before slamming his shoulder into the door, feeling it hit something solid, a sharp yelp coming out from the other side. It was rather gratifying, and he slammed into it a few more times, before finally going inside the building properly, and looking behind the door. There was a boy there, in his late teens, and he was slumped against the wall, breathing heavy. It only took a few kicks to get him on the floor.

The building was just as cold as the outdoors, but the walls kept the wind out, and for that at least Keito was grateful. The boy had been the only person by the door he’d just come in through, and he left the room, peering out into a long hallway. It was empty. He listened for a few moments, before finally hearing some sounds of yelling coming from his left, and he followed the noise, finding himself coming up on a group of Wakaba members from behind. He pulled his knife out of his pocket before taking off down the hall, the press of his gun into his back making his heart race just a little bit faster than usual. It was only a few moments before he found them, and once he did he moved fast, hoping not to give them a chance to react as he took his knife and ran it up the back of the person closest to him.

The guy immediately fell to his knees, a harsh yelp escaping his lips, and there were curses and shouts of surprise from the other Wakaba, Keito kicking the one he’d cut before aiming a punch at a second guy. His head snapped back into the concrete wall with a harsh thunk, and Keito threw a kick at a third guy, kicking him in the stomach before the Wakaba members had the presence of mind to fight back, Keito feeling a fist hit him on the back, right between his shoulder blades, and he spun, elbowing the one that had hit him hard in the shoulder, before following up with his blade. He spun to face the man, now with a gash across his chest, Keito’s foot sweeping out as he turned, kicking the man’s legs out from under him, and in moments he was one the ground.

There was one last Wakaba underling left, and he took off, Keito running after him. It didn’t take much to get to him, the guy not even around a corner before Keito grabbed him by his collar and slammed him into the wall, kneeing him in the hips before landing a few choice punches to his face, the guy out before he’d even hit the ground. Keito continued on in the direction the last guy had been running, and it wasn’t long before he found himself wrapped up in another fight. He’d been lucky until then, only running into kids that weren’t expecting him and didn’t have much experience, but then he turned a corner and found himself faced with three men, none of them looking particularly surprised to see him, and he let out a yell, slamming a fist into one of them’s throat, as the other two pulled knives out of their pockets.

The one Keito had punched doubled over, gasping for air, but he also swung out with one broad fist, catching Keito in the shoulder and sending him stumbling backwards. He felt a harsh pain in his right shoulder and he let out a curse, switching the grip on his knife and swinging it out behind him, feeling it catch on flesh as he turned to see another man behind him, his blade stained red with Keito’s blood. Damn it. It didn’t take long for them to box him into a corner, his back up against a wall before he managed to knock one out. He was mostly on the defensive, barely dodging or blocking their attacks, one miss on his part resulting in a long cut running up the right side of his face.

He was beginning to start losing hope about walking away from the fight when suddenly one of the Wakaba just crumpled at his feet, Keito looking up in surprise to see Yuto standing there, looking mostly good, blood that didn’t look like it was coming from him staining his shirt and smeared across his hands. Keito barely had time to register his friend’s appearance before Yuto slammed his fist into the last guy’s head, cracking it against the concrete, before kicking his knees out from under him and yelling at Keito

“You have a gun idiot! What are you doing letting them corner you?! Fucking stupid!” The words didn’t have any malice in them, but they still hit home. Keito had completely forgotten about his gun. He hadn’t even remembered that he’d been carrying it. He could have at least threatened them, or something, but instead he’d let the enemy take control of the situation. It was stupid. Yuto treated him to a little, barely there smile, and he asked “Are you hurt?”

“I’m only a three.” Keito assured his friend, and Yuto nodded, running a sticky hand through his hair, leaving a trail of blood smeared through it as he did so.

“Good. Most of us are that way.” He pointed, and Keito nodded, the two of them leaving the room shoulder to shoulder. “I think most of the others are doing fine. The only ones I didn’t see before running into you were Ryutaro and Takaki, but everyone else was still on their feet last I saw.” Yuto assured him, and Keito nodded, a small weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying feeling just a little bit lighter at the words. The first person they ran into was Chinen, the littler man taking out Wakaba Katsumi just as they entered the room, and when he saw them he yelled

“We’re going home! Yuya is hurt bad, and the Kumi-cho said to start heading toward the meeting point! I was sent to look for Keito!”

“Well I’ve got him!” Yuto yelled back, almost joking, and Chinen just nodded, flitting off without even looking back to see if they were following him. They lost sight of Chinen shortly after that, the two of them getting attacked by Sato Takeru, the Wakaba member’s long blade making it hard to get close to him without being given a long gash in response. Keito eventually got behind him, ramming his knife’s own, smaller blade into Takeru’s knee from behind, able to feel it hit bone before he pulled back, that injury bringing the bastard down. Yuto delivered the last blow, leaning down and delivering a few pointed punches to Takeru’s face, before kicking the small sword out of his hands.

They took off, running to meet up with the rest of their kumi, and they had just made it outside, the snow falling even thicker and heavier than it had been at the beginning of the night. The snow was wet, Keito’s shoes slipping on the ground, and Yuto pulled ahead of him, Keito pushing to catch up when the crack of a gunshot rang out in the cold night, and Keito watched in horror as Yuto crumpled to the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

“Yuto! YUTO!” Keito felt numb. His chest felt tight, barely able to breathe, feet pounding on the snow slick ground, his body moving of its own accord, no true thought given to his actions. This couldn’t be happening. Yuto couldn’t—no. Keito’s eyes were blurry with tears before he’d even reached Yuto’s side, his knees hitting the ground, skidding in the snow, sobs mangling his voice. “YUTO!” Yuto didn’t move, his body lying face down on the cold wet ground, and Keito didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t breathe. Oh god. Not—no. Then after what felt like eternity there was a grunt, and then a small whine, and he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead thank god. Thank god. Oh god.

There were more sounds of guns, and yelling, but Keito barely paid the noises any mind, his eyes trained on Yuto, as his friend turned his head, so that he was looking at Keito. He didn’t move to get up, barely moving at all, and Keito knew that—while Yuto wasn’t dead. Not dead, thank god. Oh god—there was still a very big chance he wasn’t going to make it out okay. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something comforting, but all that came out was a sob, and so he reached out one trembling hand, reaching out to run his hand through Yuto’s hair, trying to do something to be comforting, something that would help. Maybe. Somehow.

“Where?” He managed to squeeze the word out, his voice shaky and thick with tears. Yuto closed his eyes, letting out an exhale, tears of his own running down his cheeks, and he grunted out

“Leg.” Keito looked down, hand stilling in Yuto’s hair, and it took him a moment to see it, the snow and the darkness of night making it difficult. And even once he had, he wasn’t sure what it was he was looking at. It was Yuto’s left leg, and it was surrounded by a pool of dark blood, dyeing the snow red. He nodded, trying to say something, anything, but the words just came out sobs, and he gave up on speech, instead shuffling over to Yuto’s injury and shucking his jacket off of his shoulders, balling it up in his hands to place on the wound, leaning in close to find the entry point. He’d just found it, his hands going to the wound at once, when he heard someone yelling his own name, and he looked up to see some of their housemates running toward them, and he had the presence of mind to yell

“Help!” It was half of them, Yabu, Hikaru, Ryutaro, and Yamada. Yabu and Hikaru both had their guns out, and Keito could feel the panic rising inside of him, because _what was he supposed to do now?_ He couldn’t fix this, he couldn’t, and Yuto was still bleeding, and—

“Shit. Fuck. God.” Hikaru lowered his gun as soon as he got close, the curses coming out of his mouth in a rush, and he glanced over at Yabu, some unspoken orders in that look. Yabu rushed to Keito’s side, hands joining Keito’s as he asked questions, asked what exactly had happened, asked Keito to talk to him, and Keito tried to focus, tried to listen, tried to _explain_ as best he could. Yamada crouched down next to Yuto’s head, and Keito heard him asking Yuto the same questions, while Ryutaro took a gun of his own out of his waistband, leveling it back toward the Wakaba base, purpose in his face as he scanned the night. Hikaru put his cell phone up to his ear, talking low and fast. It was so much. So much, and Yuto was still bleeding, and they were in the middle of enemy territory, and he couldn’t die, he couldn’t, but Keito couldn’t save him, and oh god, oh god, no—

“Breathe. Keito, I need you to do that for me.” Yabu’s voice was stern, snapping his focus, and he tried to nod, but it came out as more of a tremble, and he shut his eyes, scrunching them closed tight, and he tried to slow his heart, tried to take deep breaths, and as he did he heard Hikaru say

“There will be an ambulance waiting for us at the edge of our territory. We just have to make it three blocks north.” Three blocks. Yuto wouldn’t make it. He couldn’t walk that far. He probably couldn’t walk at all. That thought had just registered in Keito’s mind when Yamada said

“There’s no way Yuto’s walking that.”

“Then we’ll carry him.” Yabu declared.

“Yuto? Hey, can you hear me?” Yamada sounded comforting, and Keito’s eyes snapped open, looking over to where Yamada was crouched by Yuto’s head, and Yuto must have given some sign of confirmation, because after a moment Yamada continued, his voice shaky “Do you think it would be okay if we carried you back into our territory? Hikaru’s called the doctor, they’re going to help you, but we need to get out of Wakaba territory.”

“Okay.” Yuto’s voice was rough with pain and shock, but there was determination laced in his tone, and Keito reached out, grabbing Yuto’s closest hand and giving it a squeeze, feeling some of the panic in his chest quell when Yuto squeezed back. Ryutaro lowered his gun, and together the five of them rolled Yuto over and lifted him up by his armpits and ankles. Yabu and Hikaru were on each end, while Yamada and Ryutaro worked to keep Yuto’s hips above his heart, hoping to slow the bleeding. Keito just kept pressure on the wound as best he could. It was much uglier on the other side, the exit wound an explosive mess of flesh, Yuto’s thigh a mangled bloody mass where the bullet had left his body, gaping and grotesque, the remains of his pants stuck to the flesh, the sharp tang of blood raw in the air.

They moved as fast as they could, everyone shuffling along at a fast clip, curses and muttered directions and grunts and yelps all flung between them. It felt like a lifetime. Like they weren’t going to make it, Yuto’s body mostly still, his lips blue, skin pale. Every second was more blood lost, and it was nauseating, panic so poorly contained that Keito felt he was bursting with it, splitting at the seams, tears running down his cheeks, and he had to tell himself to breathe. Keito kept an eye on Yuto’s chest the whole time they moved, watched him breathe and timed his own breaths to match, and every breath brought him a moment’s relief. And then after eternity they turned a corner and the ambulance was there, waiting for them, doors open and lights flashing.

The paramedics ran to meet them, lifting Yuto onto a stretcher, taking him out of their hands, and Keito wanted to see everything, wanted to make sure Yuto was okay, make sure that they were going to save him. The paramedics were shouting, hooking Yuto up to tubes and getting him up into the vehicle, and Keito made to follow them, to get in, but then there was a hand on his arm, holding him back, and Hikaru said

“Yabu’s going.”

“So am I.”

“No. You’re going home. You can’t do anything else for Yuto right now.” Hikaru’s voice was firm, his face lit up in the flashing red and blue of the ambulance lights, and that tone was one Keito had never argued against, but he couldn’t stay, he had to go with Yuto, had to know that Yuto was going to be okay.

“No, I just—”

“Keito, Yabu will keep us up to speed. They’re ready for him at the hospital. They will help him. They’ve already started a blood transfusion. Now what you need to do is go home, and get cleaned up so that when Yuto’s allowed visitors you can go see him. He’s strong, he’s not dying tonight.” Hikaru’s authoritative tone grew stronger with each word, as if he thought could bend Keito to his will if he just enforced his voice, but Keito’s fear broke through any chain of command, and he could feel that he was rather hysterical, but he didn’t know what else to do. He just knew he needed to do something.

“But—”

“Keito. I need you to take care of yourself. Help me right now. Come home.” Hikaru’s voice had lost all traces of authority, and he sounded like he was barely holding it together, all strength gone, and it was then that Keito finally nodded, the realization that he wasn’t behaving rationally hitting him all at once, and he fell into Hikaru’s chest as the ambulance doors closed, and it sped off into the night, taking Yuto and Yabu with it. Hikaru pulled him in tight, strong arms trembling as they wrapped around Keito’s shoulders, and Keito took a few deep shuddering breaths, willing his body to calm down, trying to pull himself together, before he pulled back, Hikaru taking his hand, and not letting go as Ryutaro and Yamada fell in next to them, and the four of them walked home in silence, the snow swirling around their bloodstained bodies.

When they walked in the front door they were greeted with the sight of Daiki and Inoo attempting to carry an unconscious Takaki up the stairs, the sight rather ridiculous. All three of them had already been patched up, Takaki had a thick bandage around his head, with matching ones around one of his legs and across his chest. Daiki was wrapped in bandages all up his chest and over his right shoulder, while Inoo had two black eyes, his face so swollen Keito couldn’t tell if he could see at all. Chinen was sitting in a kitchen chair, he himself nursing what looked like two black eyes of his own, as well as an ankle that was swollen up, already turning a sickly green color.

Yamada moved to help Daiki and Inoo with Takaki, while Ryutaro went to Chinen. Chinen had immediately looked over at them as soon as the door had opened, and he was frowning, questions on his lips, and as soon as Ryutaro was close enough Keito heard Chinen asking where Yabu and Yuto were. He sighed, bringing one hand up to rub at his face, but he stopped when he caught sight of his hand. It was red. Completely covered in blood, his arms both coated all the way to his elbows in Yuto’s blood, and he felt rather nauseous at the realization. He was exhausted, and he knew that once he sat down he wouldn’t get back up, so he walked himself over to the sink and began scrubbing at his arms, trying not to think about Yuto’s mangled thigh.

“Keito.” Hikaru’s voice caught his attention, and he turned to see their leader standing behind him wearing nothing but his button down white shirt and his underwear, a first aid kit in his hand. “Everyone else has already checked in with me. I want to take a look at you. And...I need you to fix me up.” Hikaru twisted his leg so Keito could get a look at a long nasty looking cut that ran down his left calf. Keito nodded, and Hikaru nodded back, waving for Keito to follow him. They walked past where Ryutaro and Chinen were both sitting at the kitchen table, Ryutaro icing his wrist while Chinen was icing his ankle, into Hikaru’s office.

Hikaru led Keito over to the Kumi-cho’s chair, before pushing Keito down into it. Keito blinked up at him in surprise, but he hadn’t even managed to start to ask if it was really okay for him to sit there before Hikaru’s lips were on his. The kiss was gentle, light and tender, and when it ended Hikaru crouched down, so that he was sitting on his heels and looking up at Keito, and he said

“Yuto is going to be okay. I promise.” Keito hadn’t realized just how much he’d needed to hear those words until they’d left Hikaru’s lips, his whole body sagging with relief. Hikaru reached up, grabbing his hand, and he gave it a squeeze, Keito squeezing back, his fingers twisting in Hikaru’s. He could feel the tears coming again, and he said

“I’m sorry I’m such a little bitch.” Hikaru shook his head, and Keito noticed that he too was tearing up. But then Hikaru stood, reaching for the first aid kit, and he pulled out some disinfectant wipes, saying

“Let me get a good look at your cheek.” Keito had almost completely forgotten about the cut he had running down the side of his face, but he turned his head obediently, pulling his hair back from his face and up into a ponytail as Hikaru started scrubbing. It stung, and Keito scrunched his face up, squeezing his eyes shut until Hikaru scolded him. He held as still as possible while his boyfriend dug some butterfly bandages out of the first aid kit, placing them all along Keito’s cut, before he said “Where else are you hurt?” Keito pointed to his shoulder. It had been throbbing for over an hour, and he knew it was going to be ugly, so he gritted his teeth, waiting for the exclamations as his shirt was peeled off. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Fuck! And you let me treat your face first?! C’mon Keito.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize, just—” Hikaru sighed, and then he leaned in, pressing another kiss to Keito’s lips. Keito kissed him back, trying to ignore the way his face sparked with pain as he tried to deepen the kiss, but Hikaru pulled away, treating Keito to a look that let him know that Hikaru understood just exactly how much that hurt, before he got to work on Keito’s shoulder. Keito hunched forward, unable to see just what it was that Hikaru was doing to him, trying to ignore the pain and focus on something else. He wondered when they’d be allowed to go see Yuto, when Yabu would call to update them on his condition, and he voiced those thoughts to Hikaru, who promised that Yabu would get in touch as soon as there was any news. He seemed confident, and that confidence was comforting.

“Now you fix me.” Hikaru declared, after wrapping Keito’s right shoulder up in gauze, and Keito nodded, leaning in to kiss Hikaru again as he got to his feet, offering up the Kumi-cho’s chair. Hikaru didn’t take it, instead sitting down on the floor by Keito’s feet, his leg thrust out away from the rest of his body, and Keito grabbed the first aid kit from the desk, depositing it on the carpet with Hikaru before sitting down next to him, and leaning over Hikaru’s cut leg, examining it in the lamp light. It was a straight cut, and it wasn’t as deep as he’d first thought, but it was a good thirteen or so centimeters long, and Keito dug a fresh needle and a lighter out of the kit, cauterizing the needle and getting to work.

Hikaru watched, not reacting as Keito stitched him up, although he did smile a little when Keito hissed and grimaced every time he started a new stitch. Keito had apologized once before about his noises, but Hikaru had waved him off, telling him that he found them cute, and Keito had stopped trying to repress them ever since. The cut didn’t take long to get cleaned up, and it was Hikaru’s only major injury, the rest of it just bruises. Keito too was bruised, his torso a mottled mix of purples and reds, nasty looking, his ribs rather tender. They curled up together in Hikaru’s bed, sitting up waiting for Yabu to call, exhausted but too worried about Yuto to sleep.

They talked, starting with Hikaru filling Keito in on the physical conditions of the rest of their housemates, his face scrunched up, concern in the furrow of his brow and the frown on his lips before Keito managed to steal a few more kisses from him. The physical affection seemed to relieve him of some of his stress, and Keito was glad, pressing as close as he could. Wanting more. Wanting to forget. Hikaru sighed into the kisses, noticeably holding back, and when they stopped he whined, and he was nuzzling Keito’s neck when the shrill sound of his phone going off made them both freeze.

“Shit. shit!” Hikaru exclaimed, scooping the little device off of his bed and pressing it to his ear, asking “Yabu?” Keito fell silent, eyes on Hikaru’s face, searching for any sign of Yuto’s condition, his heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah?” Pause. “Surgery?” Another pause. “How many? Okay. Okay.” Hikaru nodded, running one hand over his face. “When?” Silence. “Have they said anything about visitors? No, no don’t. Just...can you stay? They did? That’s good. Okay. Thank you. Yeah. Bye.” Hikaru hung up, the phone just barely closed before Keito asked

“Yuto? How is he?”

“Out of surgery. They have him in the ICU, and he’s not allowed visitors, but he should make it through the night just fine. They have two more surgeries scheduled for tomorrow. Yabu said that maybe tomorrow evening we can go see him. He’s going to stay there at the hospital. They’ve already patched him up and offered him a room for the night.” Keito nodded, latching onto the news that Yuto was going to make it through the night, relief hitting him like a bus. They looked at each other for a long moment, the two of them processing everything, Keito feeling much lighter now that Yuto was going to be okay, at least for now. Hikaru had a look in his eyes, one Keito couldn’t quite place, as his eyes raked over Keito’s face, and then Hikaru declared, heat and desperation in his voice

“Keito, as soon as you are physically able I want you to pin me down and fuck me so hard I forget everything that’s happened tonight.” The admission took Keito completely by surprise. He was usually the one that proposed sex out of the two of them, as while Hikaru was more creative when it came to sex, his sex drive was lower than Keito’s own. A thrill of arousal ran through him at the words, and Keito nodded, leaning in and pressing a searing kiss to Hikaru’s lips, shifting and pushing in close, stealing Hikaru’s breath from his lungs, wanting to give Hikaru something to look forward to. Hikaru clung to him, pulling Keito closer, need in his hands and his hips as Keito broke their kiss to mouth at Hikaru’s throat.

A low moan rose from Hikaru’s throat, his chest heaving, and Keito knew if this teasing was going to remain just that he needed to slow down, the aches and pains his body was feeling not eliminated by the arousal stirring in his stomach. He sighed, shutting his eyes and breathing Hikaru in for a long moment before sitting back, pushing a loose strand of hair away from his face, and Hikaru looked up at him, his arousal stark in his dark eyes, and he said

“God, you’re hot.” The comment made Keito smile, a blush rising in his cheeks, and Hikaru just ran his hands up Keito’s thighs, pulling Keito back in, Keito curling into him as Hikaru murmured, almost reverent “So fucking sexy. Every bit of you. Shit.” They touched each other for a little while longer, hands exploring bodies under the sheets, touching and teasing until some release was found. They fell asleep almost immediately after, their exhaustion taking over, Hikaru murmuring something about going to visit Yuto the following evening as Keito finally, finally fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Hikaru’s promise to visit Yuto was trashed the next day, when just as a few of them were setting the table for dinner a man Keito vaguely recognized as a Wakaba underling burst through their front door, gun in his hand. Keito’s heart leapt in his chest, barely able to comprehend what was happening before the gun went off, a bullet hitting the wall over the stove, cracking into the tile with an ear splitting bang, having barely missed little Chinen’s head. It was then that there was another gunshot, closer to his ear, and the man’s body fell, hitting the floor with a thud. Stunned, Keito turned to see Ryutaro standing behind him, his hand still raised, gun level. The whole room was silent for a few moments, everyone in a state of shock.

“Is he dead?” Ryutaro asked, and Hikaru stepped over, looking down and nudging the Wakaba underling with his foot.

“Yeah.” Hikaru kicked the gun away, and it was only then that Ryutaro lowered his own, dropping it on the table and going to where Chinen was still standing by the stove. Hikaru looked up, surveying the room, and he asked “Is everyone okay?”

“What the fucking hell was that all about?!” Daiki growled, Keito looking over to see that despite the fierce words the small fighter looked rather ridiculous. He had thoroughly wrapped himself around his husband, Yamada only looking mildly annoyed by the thorough squeezing he was getting. His question was met with silence for a few moments, before Chinen’s face lit up with a stroke of realization, and he said

“Distraction.”

“Fuck.” Hikaru muttered, meeting Chinen’s eyes across the room. “You’re right. We’ve got to go. Now.” He was already moving, pulling one of his glocks out of his waistband and checking it over, stepping over the still bleeding corpse on the floor as he made for the door.

“Kumi-cho, what’s happening?” Keito asked, fear and confusion running amok in his stomach, tears threatening to spill over. Hikaru pursed his lips, pausing, his hand on the doorknob.

“The Wakaba only sent one man with a gun to attack us. Why would they do that?” Keito had no idea, the whole situation bizarre. “It was a distraction.” Hikaru continued. “If he had managed to shoot even one of us he would have done his job. We were supposed to be too preoccupied dealing with the dead and wounded here that we wouldn’t notice when they attacked somewhere else.” Keito finally understood. The underlings, they were in danger. Shit. Hikaru pulled open the front door, and yelled for them all to come on. Everything was dropped, weapons scooped up from counters and places at the table, and Keito was on his way out the door, adrenaline coursing through his veins, when Hikaru stopped him, and said

“Inoo! He’s still upstairs with Takaki. Get him. We’re going to need everyone that can still fight for tonight.” Keito nodded, trying to gain focus, to maintain reasoning and some semblance of control, and he turned back, going up the stairs in a rush, pushing through Takaki and Inoo’s shared bedroom doorway without thinking, a sharp blade cutting up the inside of the arm he’d had on the doorknob as he entered, a yelp falling from his lips. There was cursing, and he looked up to see Inoo standing there, his butterfly knife in his hand, a look of terror on his face.

“Keito! Shit. I thought you were the Wakaba.” Keito drew his arm in close, the injury stinging and burning, and he cursed himself for not thinking. Of course Inoo would have heard the gunshot, and the yelling, and would defend himself. He could have shouted beforehand or something.

“It’s fine, it’s—fuck—it’s fine.” Keito assured him, pressing on it, not looking too hard, not wanting to see just how bad the damage was. “But we’re pretty sure the Wakaba are attacking the underlings and we’ve got to go. The others already left. Kumi-cho just sent me to get you.” Inoo’s eyes were still wide with fear, his fingers stained red with Keito’s blood, and he turned, looking over at Takaki’s big bed, where their housemate was lying on one side, all wrapped in bandages from the fight they’d been in the day before, and Keito noticed for the first time that Takaki was awake.

“Go.” Takaki said, his voice rough, and a tear slipped down Inoo’s cheek, and he turned away from Keito completely, giving Takaki his full attention.

“But what about you? What if they come back and you’re here alone?” Takaki made a small noise, like an attempt at a scoff, and he reached out, putting one hand on Inoo’s own, and he said

“I’ll be fine. I’ll pretend to be dead or something.” The words had the cadence of a joke, but no one was laughing. Keito just stood in the doorway, debating wrapping something around his new wound, and Inoo went into Takaki’s bedside table, pulling a gun out of one of the drawers and handing it to the older man.

“Take my gun, and shoot anyone that comes through that doorway.” Inoo said, fingers fiddling with the handles of his knife. Takaki nodded, tucking the gun close to him, and after a moment’s hesitation Inoo leaned in, hovering over Takaki’s body before pressing a slow kiss to Takaki’s lips. Takaki kissed him back, raising one bruised hand to pull Inoo in closer, sweet desperation in the movements, neither of them making any move to pull away.

Keito felt rooted to the spot for a moment, watching his housemates, surprised. It wasn’t until Inoo climbed up onto the bed a little that he had the self awareness to leave, exiting the room, his mind racing. He’d had a conversation with Yuto weeks ago, Yuto insisting at the time that Takaki and Inoo had a more serious romantic relationship than they had been letting on, and at the time Keito didn’t really think much of it, but now that the evidence was right in front of him he was apprehensive. They had both been in love with other people for so long, it made Keito afraid that they were settling, or just clinging to each other because of the war. He wanted them to be happy, but there were too many ways that this apparent relationship could end in misery, and the more he thought about it the more it felt like just one more thing that could blow up around them.

He didn’t get much time to process his emotions however, as it was only few seconds before Inoo joined him at the doorway, and after letting out a shaky sigh the older man said

“Let’s go then.” Keito nodded, the two of them scurrying down the stairs, and out into the night. They ran the whole way to the underlings housing, and as they drew close they heard the sounds of a fight, and it was eerily similar to the fight on New Year's Eve. The fight that had started this nightmare. The sense of deja vu was unsettling, and Keito flicked his knife open as they rounded the last corner, already calculating just how much harder it was going to be to fight with one arm already in need of stitches. He was exhausted, and it hadn’t even started yet.

They turned that last corner and were thrown pell-mell into the fight. It was all yells. Screams and curses and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. All down the street doors were open, light filtering out into the street, illuminating red stains on the pavement and the glinting off of the steel of the boys’ knives. Keito was nearly run into by a stumbling underling boy, the kid’s hands covered in blood, and he jumped into the fight, grabbing the boy’s attacker by the throat and shoving him to the ground. He kicked at the Wakaba member’s chest a few times before turning to check on the kid, just to find him gone. Good. The boy must not have been hurt too severely if he’d managed to run away.

Inoo too was nowhere to be seen, the older man having already joined the thick of the fight, and so Keito moved to really get into it, his right hand dripping in blood, his left gripping his knife. He came up on Kouchi Yugo, the underling getting his ass handed to him a little bit, his boyfriend nowhere to be seen. That was concerning; Jesse and Yugo always stuck close together in fights, the two usually found battling back to back. Neither Yugo nor his opponent saw Keito coming, and Keito used that to his advantage, slamming a spinning kick into the Wakaba member’s legs, the man falling to the ground with a harsh thud. Keito didn’t give him a chance to recover, getting over top of the enemy and pinning him down, slamming his fist into the man’s face a few times, until he stopped struggling.

Pain rung up his injured arm as he hit the Wakaba man, and he gritted his teeth, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, but he didn’t get a chance to dwell on himself, because as soon as he returned to his full stature Yugo called out to him.

“Prince!” Yugo was doubled over, blood running down the side of his face, his whole body trembling, and Keito turned to him, asking

“Are you okay? Where’s Jesse?” At the mention of his boyfriend Yugo’s expression warped into one of grief.

“He-he was taken down. I didn’t want to leave him, but—”

“You’re done here. You’ve done your part. I’ll take over, you go.” Keito told the other man, and the relief on Yugo’s face was immediate. He nodded, and as he turned and ran Keito almost regretted sending him away. Yugo was a fierce fighter, and Keito liked having someone there to cover his back, especially considering that he wasn’t at his best. But Yugo was distracted, and he was already pretty severely hurt. Keito had hated the miserable look on his face. And so despite knowing it was to his own detriment he continued on without any support. The third opponent he came across got a few shots in, but he met the business end of Keito’s knife, and after that he went down pretty fast. The fourth one took forever to defeat, and in the end he had to head butt the guy, the act splitting open the cut down his face that had just started to heal, blood getting in his eyes, his own skull aching in the aftermath, and he knew he was slowing down.

The fight was one of the most overwhelming he’d been a part of in years. Between the stab wound he’d taken to his shoulder the day before, and the gash Inoo had left up his forearm, his whole right arm was near useless. He was favoring it, leaving a whole side of his body more open to getting hurt, and he could tell that he was moving slower, his aches and pains from the horrible attack just the day before making him sluggish, tiring him faster. He was more timid, fighting with caution, because he could tell that he wasn’t prepared for the fight. Still, he pressed on, looking through the faces for his housemates, hoping that they were okay. Hoping that he could find one of them while he was still okay. The more time passed, the less okay he was.

Keito had just tripped, stumbling and crashing to his knees, totally spent, when over the noises of fists hitting flesh and grunts and curses the harsh crack of a gunshot rang out, a bullet embedding into the pavement right in front of him. He jumped in surprise, a fresh jolt of adrenaline crashing through his veins, and he reached for his gun as fear hit him like a wall. There was a yell, and he turned to see Wakaba Ryuya standing across the street, a revolver in his hand, and it must have been him that had fired the shot because Yamada was standing behind him, his sword driven through the center of his chest. The whole street had fallen silent at the sound of the gun going off, and it was horrifyingly ugly to watch as Yamada slowly pulled his sword out of Ryuya’s back, his arms stained in his enemy’s blood.

The Wakaba member’s body fell to the pavement, mortally wounded but not yet dead, and almost as soon as he hit the ground Keito heard his name being yelled, the word so full of desperation that it made him feel even more afraid. The sound rang out over the unnerving silence, one last still moment, Keito pulling himself up on trembling legs and looking through the crowd of faces for the person behind the voice—Hikaru needed to know he was okay—before everything erupted into chaos. It was as if the death of Ryuya had put the Wakaba at a complete loss, the majority of them abandoning the fight at once, turning and running back toward their territory. A few contrarily seemed fueled by the loss of their companion, fierce yells and threats of death falling from their lips, and those select few chose two targets to direct their rage; Yamada, and Keito himself.

Keito noticed the moment that it happened. He felt the shift in the air, and he had a sinking feeling in his gut as eyes locked onto him. He was a mess, and he knew that if they all went for him someone else was going to end up dead. He adjusted his hold on the grip of his pistol, feeling it slide in his hand, slick with blood, his thumb hovering near the hammer, getting ready for the onslaught, but it never came. There was the sound of a gun going off somewhere to the right of him, and some yelling, and then Ryutaro and Hikaru emerged through the crowd, guns out. It only took one more warning shot to send the last of the Wakaba fighters heading for the safety of their own territory.

Keito could feel his heart racing, but the rest of his body was moving very slowly and it felt like minutes, not moments, before Hikaru and Ryutaro had made it to his side, Keito stumbling to them. His knees gave out, and he fell into Hikaru’s chest, exhaustion winning out. Hikaru caught him with tense arms, and he was talking but Keito wasn’t listening, too busy fighting to stay conscious. His body was heavy, his head pounding, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if maybe he’d lost too much blood, his face and arms slick with it. Hikaru’s arms were strong around him, and his leader was still talking, his voice an anchor, and Keito tried to latch onto it, to focus on the real world and not give in to the creeping blackness.

“—need you to stay with me here. C’mon, you can do it. You got this far, you can make it just a little bit longer. I know you can, Keito. Fuck.” Hikaru’s voice had a slight tremor in it, and it was muffled, Keito unable to hear it well with the way he’d pressed his face into his leader’s chest. He turned his head to hear better, and that one motion made Hikaru let out a long sigh, muttering curses throughout. There was a pause, and then Hikaru said “Did he shoot you?” Keito couldn’t get his mouth to work, so he just shook his head. Hikaru nodded, some tension leaving his shoulders, and he said “It’s over, but you can’t sleep yet. We’re not home.” Keito nodded, knowing that Hikaru was right. “Let’s get you a spot to sit down.” Hikaru said, and then he was picking Keito up.

Keito forced his eyes open, and he fiddled with his gun, shoving it back into his waistband with one hand, as he belatedly realized he still had his knife in the other, twirling the knife shut with shaking fingers so as to not accidentally hurt Hikaru. He looked up at Hikaru. He looked like he’d fared much better than Keito had, the only noticeable injury Keito could see a cut that ran along the bridge of his nose, blood running down his face. He reached up, wanting to look at it, and Hikaru must have known exactly what his thoughts were, because the older man said

“It’s fine. Really shallow. I’m only about a three.” Keito let his hand drop, eyes falling shut, not opening them again until Hikaru was setting him down on a couch, inside an unfamiliar apartment. “You stay here, and I’ll come for you when we leave, okay? Try to stay awake.” Hikaru’s voice was raw with concern, and Keito felt rather guilty for making his leader, the man he loved, sound like that. He nodded, and he even mustered up his voice, and promised

“I will.” Keito was asleep as soon as his eyes fell closed.

One second he was slumped on a ratty old couch in some underling apartment, and the next thing he knew he was home, and someone had a needle in his arm. It was the pain that woke him, sharp burning pain licking up his arm, and he jerked away in reflex as he came to, the action causing a tugging in his skin that was unnatural, as Yamada’s voice snapped

“Shit! Don’t move, stupid! Fuck.” Keito blinked, opening his eyes to see that he and Yamada were attached by a thread that was running through his arm, the needle on the end pinched between Yamada’s fingers. He frowned, not particularly happy about his situation, but Yamada smirked at him wryly, saying “Nice of you to join us. Now, give me back your arm. You’ve got a lot that needs stitching up, and it’s not going to sew itself.”

Keito wordlessly held his arm out to his housemate, Yamada getting back to work. He was visibly exhausted, moving slow, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his fatigue. Keito tried to stay still, his mind still orienting itself to where he was and what was happening.

“I fell asleep.” Yamada snorted at that, before sighing and saying

“Yeah.” There was another long silence, Keito watching Yamada stitch him up, trying to suppress the pain as the smaller man worked.

“What did I miss?” At the question Yamada hummed, thinking it over, his brow furrowing, and he finished the stitch he was working on before replying.

“It was kinda like before. Not as bad for the kids; the Wakaba didn’t bring their whole crew this time, so the underlings fared better overall. Still, you’re not the only one that got the shit beaten out of them. Inoo is just barely holding himself together, and Chinen’s leg is a wreck. And…” Yamada paused, plunging the needle into Keito’s arm once more as he spoke. “Three more underling boys died.”

“What?! Fuck. Who?” Keito could feel the fear bubbling in his chest, and his mind raced, flying back to what Yugo had said about Jesse. The grief that had been on Yugo’s face. _‘He-he was taken down. I didn’t want to leave him, but—’_

“Iwasaki Taisho, Sugeta Rinne, and Abe Aran.” It was sickening and twisted the relief that Keito felt when the names on the list were only vaguely familiar. Keito just nodded, and they fell into a long silence, Keito looking Yamada over. He looked much better than Keito was expecting; only a few new bruises and knicks, some dried blood still on his skin, despite having obviously scrubbed most of it off. It wasn’t until Yamada was tending to the reopened gash down the side of his face that Keito said

“Thank you.” Yamada stopped, and the look in his eyes let Keito know that he understood that Keito was thanking him for more than the medical care. But then he nodded, the movement jerky, and he turned his attention back to Keito’s marred face, muttering

“Don’t talk while I do this.”


	15. Chapter 15

Keito ended up falling asleep in Yuto’s bed that night. After Yamada had patched him up he’d lain there on the kitchen table while his housemate packed up the first aid kit. Daiki came down the stairs just as Yamada finished, announcing that Inoo was in bed. None of the others were downstairs. Hikaru was nowhere to be seen. It was quickly explained to him that Hikaru was still with the underlings, not expected home for some time. Keito himself was a mess, the whole right side of his body a muddle of bruising and bandages, and after some assurance that Hikaru himself was okay, and that no one in the house had been hurt too badly he trudged up the stairs, the effort it took almost embarrassing.

He didn’t even attempt climbing the ladder into his bunk, instead crashing face first into Yuto’s pillow. It smelled like his friend, and it was rather comforting, considering the duress he had been under the last two days. Despite the worries he had—worries about Hikaru, about the underling boys, about the rest of the house, and how Yuto was doing in the hospital—his body gave into sleep quickly, his exhaustion winning out over his overactive mind. He was only asleep for a few hours before he was woken up by a hand on his shoulder, and he reflexively reached for his knife, eyes snapping open. It was still dark, but it wasn’t hard to make out Hikaru’s form in the black.

“Hey Keito. You okay?”

“Shit.” Keito cursed, reaching out for his boyfriend with his left hand, grabbing Hikaru’s forearm and tugging on it. “C’mere.” Hikaru climbed into the little twin sized bed with him, the two of them barely able to fit. Hikaru was pressed up against him, half on top of him, and despite how hurt his body was, it was exactly what Keito wanted. “Are you okay?” He asked, already starting to fall back asleep, and he felt Hikaru’s breath in his ear, as he said

“I’m fine.”

Keito woke up ten hours later to find himself in bed alone. His whole body was sore, some spots aching and swollen, while others burned with pain when he moved. It fucking sucked, but he clambered out of bed and down the stairs, his need to know their current status getting him up and moving. There were three people sitting around in the living room, and it took Keito a moment to register that one of those people wasn’t supposed to be there, his brow furrowing in concern and confusion as he said

“Hey Yabu.” Their second in command turned from his conversation with the Ariokas, promptly frowning when he caught sight of Keito, and he said

“You look like shit.” Keito snorted, flopping down on the couch as he asked

“What the hell are you doing here?” Yabu shrugged, leaning forward, eyes raking over Keito’s bandaged up body and cut up face, assessing his injuries as he spoke.

“I came back this morning. Yuto is stable and going to be released tomorrow, so I decided to come home, see you bastards, and maybe sleep in my own bed tonight. Besides, Yuto can handle himself and I thought you might need me more here.” There was a pause, Keito breathing a sigh of relief at the thought of Yuto’s discharge, before Yabu continued. “I was right, you people are a fucking mess.” There wasn’t nearly enough snark in that remark for it to be taken lightly, and Keito just nodded, pursing his lips. They could really benefit from having their second in command back in the house right now.

“How is everybody? Where are they?” This time it was Daiki that answered Keito’s questions, running through the rest of their housemates from his place sprawled out on the couch, his head in his husband’s lap, arms wrapped around Yamada’s waist in an awkward hug.

“Inoo-chan and Takaki are both in Takaki’s big bed. They’re awake but they’re not allowed to be up and about. Ryu just took some food up to Chinen. We’re pretty sure he hurt his ankle worse last night, little fucker. It’s potentially broken, so we’re trying to keep him from using it. He’s not being very cooperative. And the Kumi-cho has been in his office all day. He got a phone call sometime around nine this morning and he’s not come out since.”

“Do you think I could see him?” Keito asked. Yamada shrugged, his fingers carding through Daiki’s hair. He looked bad, like he'd been crying, his posture radiating discomfort. Daiki squeezed him a little, burying himself into Yamada’s lap a little more, and it seemed to help just a bit. Daiki answered Keito’s question a bit more thoroughly than the shrug did.

“The only person that he’s allowed in has been Yabu, but I think he’d be glad to see that you woke up, and that you’re on your feet.” Keito turned to Yabu, weighing Daiki’s words, and the older man nodded silently in agreement. It was with great effort that Keito got back to his feet, his sore body aching in protest, joints throbbing as he pulled himself off of the couch. He shuffled to the Kumi-cho’s office door, knocking quietly, and the others on the couch sat in silence, listening to see what would happen. There was a pause, and then through the wood Keito heard their leader call out

“Come on in, Keito.” Keito pushed the door open, finding Hikaru sitting at his desk, phone up to his ear, planners and papers scattered across the surface of his desk, a horrible, broken look on his face. His expression wasn’t the only thing on his face however, Keito gasping when he caught sight of a long gash that ran at an angle up from under Hikaru’s right eye, across the bridge of his nose before cutting through his left eyebrow. It was scabbed over but it looked ugly, the surrounding flesh black and blue, his jaw patterned in matching colors. The injuries looked like they hurt, and Keito frowned, trying to examine Hikaru’s condition with his eyes as he made his way over to the desk, and sat down in one of the chairs facing it.

Hikaru didn’t really acknowledge that he was there, too consumed with whatever his phone conversation was, some sort of preparation for an event, judging on the bits Keito heard, and it wasn’t until after he hung up the phone that he really looked at Keito, and it was then that Keito realized that their leader was on the verge of tears. It took Keito by surprise, and he reached out for Hikaru on instinct, grabbing the hand that was still holding his cell phone and giving it a squeeze as Hikaru said

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Keito looked down at the hand he was holding, his attention caught almost immediately by the paper they were resting their hands on. It was rather crumpled, and Keito’s eyes caught on the words, written there, a list: _Ozeki Kafu, Takahashi Yuto, Kaneda Yosei, Kawashima Noel, Igarashi Reo, Sugeta Rinne, Abe Aran, Iwasaki Taisho, Kanasashi Issei_. He felt a weight drop into his stomach when he realized what the list was; the names of all of the boys that had died since this war with the Wakaba had begun. It was sobering, and Hikaru noticed, speaking quietly, voice grave, resigned and broken and awful.

“That last call was the crematorium. I need to call Hokuto back, get him up to speed, and start looking for any family members for the four boys that died. We need to see if we can send their ashes to their families.”

“Wait. Four? Yamada said there were only three.”

“Kanasashi Issei didn’t make it through the night. Hokuto called me this morning with the news.” Hikaru paused, a tear rolling down his cheek. “He’d just turned thirteen.” Keito didn’t know what to say, and so after a beat he just murmured

“I’m sorry.” Hikaru nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath, before pulling his hand back and setting his phone off to the side, slumping in his chair.

“Yeah, me too.” There was another long silence, Keito leaving his hand out on the desk, eyes on Hikaru’s face, the defeat and the grief tangible in the air, and he struggled for the right words, wanting to fix this somehow. To make it even a little bit less awful.

“It’s not your fault.” He said, Hikaru’s eyes flicking back up to look at him, all red and watery, his face a bruised and bloody mess, and Keito stood, leaning over the desk to press a feather light kiss to Hikaru’s lips, before saying again “It’s not your fault.” Hikaru looked back down at his lap, swallowing and taking a few deep breaths, before he said

“Let me see you, Keito. Where are you hurt?” His words were much lighter sounding than anything else he’d said that day, and Keito immediately recognized the question for what it was—a distraction. Something to let Hikaru forget all of the phone calls and decisions he still had to make regarding the corpses left in the wake of the Wakaba’s attack. Keito decided to roll with it, happy to be an escape for a little while, and the two of them compared injuries, fretting over each other’s physical health and completely avoiding any mention of the actual fight that had been the cause of their pains. It didn’t last long however, barely half an hour before Hikaru declared he had a few more calls he had to make, Keito’s stomach growling loudly to remind him that he had yet to eat that day.

The kiss Hikaru pressed to his lips was bittersweet, and it tasted of tears and coffee, Keito able to feel the stress and absolute misery in every brush of Hikaru’s skin against his own. But now wasn’t the time to address those emotions. Not when Hikaru still had work to do, and so Keito didn’t press, instead slipping back out of their leader’s office and making a beeline past his housemates still sitting in the living room, for the kitchen. It looked like Yabu had attempted to cook lunch. Their second in command wasn’t particularly known for his cooking skills, but Keito was too weary and hungry to care that he’d somehow managed to burn the rice, plopping down at the table and shoveling the food into his mouth.

The rest of the day was spent sitting with Yabu and the Ariokas, the four of them talking quietly and playing card games. It was an attempt at relieving some of the tension in the house, Yamada noticeably more upset than the rest of them, trembling and quiet, clinging to Daiki like his husband would fly away if he let go. While Yamada was definitely the most upset, everyone was worried about the state of their companions, shaken by the deaths that had taken place the night before. When silences fell over them Keito could feel himself getting upset, mind going over the last two nights, and if his own body wasn’t so beaten he would be out of the house, he would be checking in on the underlings, sitting with Yuto in the hospital, and making out with Hikaru. He would do more than just sit on the couch. As it was, he really couldn’t do much more than sit on the couch. And, with the others there, it was better than being alone.

That evening promised to return a little normalcy, Yamada, Yabu, and Ryutaro cooking dinner, with Chinen and Hikaru coming out of their bedrooms for the meal, seven of them sitting around the table. It was almost pathetic, the groaning and muttered curses of pain that fell from their lips as they passed the food around and got the table ready for dinner, but it was nice to see most of the house all in one room, the food good. They talked over the plan to pick up Yuto the following morning, and those words knocked some of the weight off of their shoulders, everyone perking up at the thought of having Yuto home again.

After dinner Yabu took food up to Takaki and Inoo, and Keito settled on the couch with Hikaru while in the kitchen Chinen and Ryutaro argued over which one of them was more capable of doing the dishes. Keito pressed his tattooed shoulder into Hikaru’s own, finding Hikaru’s hand and sliding their fingers together, and Hikaru gave him a quiet little smile, brushing a lock of hair out of Keito’s face, and it was the best Keito had felt all day. They sat in silence, listening to the younger men chattering in the other room, and it felt comfortable.

Eventually Yabu sat down with them, and it was then that conversation picked up, Keito sitting mostly silent, happy to listen as Hikaru and Yabu talked. He didn’t notice himself dozing off, but it must have happened, because one moment he was leaning his head on Hikaru’s shoulder, and the next he was being jerked awake by Hikaru’s body moving out from under him, yells and curses echoing throughout the house, and the fear in his housemates voices was something he was chillingly accustomed to. No. Not again. He pushed himself to his feet, looking up to see the a familiar group of Wakaba members pushing through the doorway. Fucking hell.

Keito was too tired, too drained and numb to be as afraid as he usually was, but he reflexively reached for his knife, already preparing himself internally for the pain he knew was coming. It had been Hikaru getting to his feet that had woken Keito up, the older man throwing himself into the fight with a notable rage, his moves rather frenzied, and Keito moved to back him up, the usual adrenaline beginning to run through his body as he watched Hikaru just barely miss taking a knife to the ribs. This was fucking bad. He tossed his knife to his left hand, feeling like an idiot when he realized he’d left his gun on Yuto’s nightstand after he'd woken up. He barreled toward Hikaru’s attacker, getting there just in time to dig his blade into the guy's shoulder as a kick from Hikaru sent him falling to his knees.

“Fuck.” Keito heard Hikaru mutter, and he looked up to see that his leader looked positively murderous, his gaze falling across the room, where by the front door a man Keito didn't recognize was battling with Daiki for control of a gun. It was apparent who the guy had to be.

“Ichinojo.” Keito’s statement was met with a terse glance from Hikaru, and Keito turned his attention back over to the guy, a little surprised. He knew by now that evil people rarely ever looked evil, but he hadn't expected Ichinojo to look so...ordinary. He was pretty average looking, aside from the bloodlust plastered all over his face, and Keito felt that he was having to adjust his expectations a little. That whole thought process barely took a second, Keito getting knocked to the ground, his knees kicked out from under him. He crumpled like a leaf, hitting the floor with a harsh thud that rang through his bones. There was a sharp kick to the side of his head, and he let out a whine of pain, flailing his arms out, blade whipping the air blindly, his eyes squeezed shut.

Above him Hikaru took out the guy that had knocked him down, Keito finally opening his eyes to see the older man kicking out, nailing the guy in the chin with his heel, blood spraying from their enemy’s mouth as he stumbled and fell backwards. Keito rolled over onto his chest, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He was moving slower than he should, and he knew it, but his body simply wasn’t capable of working any faster. By the time he’d gotten to his feet Hikaru had knocked their attacker out, and the leader returned to Keito’s side, his voice rather tentative and unsure as he said

“Here, we’ll work together. I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine, and we’ll both make it out of this okay, yeah?” Keito just nodded, already breathing heavy, before throwing his fist over Hikaru’s left shoulder, and into the skull of an incoming enemy. The momentum made him stumble a little, and his whole arm rung with pain when his fist made contact, but he stayed on his feet. That time. Honestly, most of the battle was him fighting to keep off the ground, failing, and then scrambling to get back up before he got too seriously hurt. Hikaru worked hard to protect him, but they were outnumbered, what with some of their housemates unable to fight, and more often than not that Keito found himself sprawled on the floor.

It was during one of his scrambles to his feet when he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Hikaru, and instead he caught sight of Inoo coming down the stairs. Inoo was a mess, his whole face black and blue, his chest wrapped in blood stained bandages, the skin they were able to see a mottled tapestry. He was supposed to be in bed, barely able to move due to his concussion, and Keito seemed to be the only one that saw him coming. Ichinojo certainly didn’t see Inoo coming, his back turned as he lunged at Daiki. It was then that Inoo struck, jumping the last few stairs and running his knife deep into Ichinojo’s side. Keito gasped, mouth hanging open, as Inoo let go of the handles of his butterfly knife to instead grip onto the banister, barely holding himself up.

Ichinojo turned, blood already beginning to run down his side from where Inoo’s knife was still driven into his body, and he cursed, grabbing Inoo by the throat. Keito shouted, fear hitting him like a punch in the gut, and as he yelled as a fist slammed into his skull, knocking him to his knees, his knife flying to the ground as he opened his hands to catch himself. He barely paid his attacker any mind, eyes locked on where Inoo was now pressed up against the wall by the staircase, his hands scratching at Ichinojo’s own, wrapped tightly around his throat, fingernails digging into the skin. Inoo was paling, his movements growing more and more frantic, and Daiki was screaming, and hitting, but Ichinojo persisted, unrelenting. Inoo’s body went limp moments before Keito took another kick to the skull, and his world went black.


	16. Chapter 16

His head was pounding. It was like his brain was trying to escape his skull, the pain exploding across his consciousness in a wash of red behind his closed eyelids. It hurt, and he tried to shy away from the pain on reflex, scrunching his face up, but the movement only made it worse. There was a new pain when he moved his face, this pain one of sore muscles, and he remembered that he was hurt. He’d been hurt in a fight...or was it two fights? He tried to remember, searching his memories, everything hazy until he realized Yuto had been shot. Yuto had been _shot._ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. His eyes snapped open, and he could feel himself beginning to panic, totally disoriented.

He didn’t take in where he was, still trying to process his disjointed memories as his heart raced in his chest. He just knew he needed to find Yuto, Yuto needed help, he needed to save him. Keito looked around the room he was in, vaguely recognizing it as Hikaru’s bedroom while he was trying to push himself up to a sitting position. Everything hurt, his head still pounding, and his limbs weren’t cooperating very well. It took him a couple of tries to sit up, and then a wave of nausea came over him, and he had to stop moving, fighting to keep himself from throwing up in the bed he was perched in. He had to get it together. He needed to find Yuto.

“Yuto.” His voice was weak, raspy like he hadn’t used it in a while, and he whined, trying to clear his throat, and he yelled “Yuto!” There was some movement from the far end of the room, and a door burst open, Hikaru emerging dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel. Keito reached out to him, still frantic. Hikaru could help get him up, and then they could get Yuto, and—

“Keito! You’re awake! Shit.” Hikaru was visibly relieved, and Keito didn’t understand, didn’t have the time to, because he needed to get out of this damn bed _now_. He moved to try and stand up, talking as he did so

“Yuto! He needs, he was—” Hikaru lunged forward, reaching his arms out and consequently dropping the towel, as he caught Keito by the shoulders, holding him and saying

“What the hell are you doing?! You shouldn’t be moving! Fuck.”

“No!” Keito pushed Hikaru away, tears already beginning to run down his cheeks. Hikaru wasn’t helping, he didn’t understand. Yuto needed help! “Yuto’s dying! Yuto’s hurt! We have to—”

“What? Keito, Yuto’s fine.” Keito froze. That didn’t add up. “I mean, he’s hurt, but he’s stable. And conscious. He’s just in bed, like you’re supposed to be. Fuck.”

“What? How...what happened? Can I see him?” Keito was fighting back tears, trying to control himself, and Hikaru sat next to him on the edge of the bed, his hand trailing to Keito’s thigh, rubbing it slowly, the action comforting.

“Yuto was shot in the thigh during a fight a few days ago. You remember that part?” Keito nodded. Hikaru nodded back, reaching up and wiping away the tear tracks that ran down his cheeks. “And then we took him to the hospital, and they fixed him up. He came home yesterday morning.” Keito nodded, the panic in his chest quelling at Hikaru’s words. Still, he wanted to see Yuto for himself. He said so, but Hikaru shook his head, frowning. “Keito, after that fight we had two more back to back. You were in three serious raids in three days, and you’ve been asleep for just over forty-eight hours. You are in no state to be getting up. I’m surprised you can sit at all.”

Keito blinked, surprised. Three fights in three days? Shit. He reached out for Hikaru’s hand, only to find that his right hand—and indeed his whole right arm—was covered in bandages, and the gravity of Hikaru’s words started to sink in. His head was still pounding, and he knew he was taking longer than usual to form thoughts, the pain distracting, but he looked Hikaru over, looking for new injuries, serious injuries. He had a long cut along the bridge of his nose that looked ugly, the skin around his right eye a mess of colors, but not swollen. His jawline was similar, a few new cuts and bruises on his chest and arms, all of them rather minor. Hikaru had a long cut on his left calf that had been stitched up, and another on the right thigh that looked more fresh. His hands were black and blue, the knuckles ringed in the worst of the discoloration, the bruises painful looking.

It was during this long sweep over Hikaru’s body that he properly realized that the older man was completely naked, perched there on the edge of the bed, his wet hair dripping, water rolling in little drops down his body. Keito reached out, brushing away one drop that was rolling down Hikaru’s chest, and Hikaru sighed at the touch.

“Are you okay?” Keito asked, not fully sure he wasn’t missing something. Hikaru nodded.

“I’m one of the ones that got lucky. It’s not so bad. I’m fine.” Keito nodded, as Hikaru got to his feet, declaring “You need to relax.” Keito didn’t protest, Hikaru helping him get situated so that he was leaning back on the pillows.

“But what about the others?” Keito asked once he was all tucked in, Hikaru looking over his face.

“Most of them are stuck in their beds. Takaki is about a seven. He was hurt bad enough in the first fight that he missed the second and third, but he’s still not allowed out. Chinen’s only at a five, but he really fucked up one of his legs so he’s not allowed to be walking until it’s been given some time to heal. Ryutaro’s a six. He cracked some ribs, and he’s broken his wrist, so they’re kinda driving each other crazy, stuck together in the same bed and not able to do anything about it, good or bad. Yuto is...well, he’s fine other than the massive hole in his thigh, and Daiki is a bruised mess, and looks like shit, but he really didn’t get any serious injuries. Yamada has a few deep cuts, but he’s up and about, they’re both about at a three or four, and Yabu is the best off out of any of us, just a black eye and some broken fingers.”

Keito nodded, and Hikaru paused, taking a deep breath, before letting out a long sigh, and fixing Keito with a grim look.

“Inoo...he’s still not woken up. He was supposed to be confined to his bed after the second fight, but he came down during the third and...Ichinojo strangled him until he passed out. He is still breathing, but past that...we just, we don’t know.” The grief in Hikaru’s voice was stark and numbingly scary, and Keito felt his heart aching in his chest, that fear he’d felt when he’d thought Yuto was dying hitting him all over again, and he furrowed his brow, bunching his face up in an attempt to keep from crying again. Crying couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t do anything to fix this. Hikaru took his left hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and Keito whined, leaning his head up, asking for a kiss.

Hikaru leaned down to meet him, stopping when their faces were just a hair apart, but then he murmured

“Keito, you’re too hurt. I can’t.” Keito looked up, meeting his eyes, and he nodded in begrudging acceptance of Hikaru’s decision, but Hikaru made no move to pull away, and Keito didn’t either. This was as close as they could get, and while it didn’t hold any of the tactile sensuality of a kiss, it felt good having Hikaru right there, soothing despite there being no physical comfort. They stayed that way for a long moment, Keito breathing in the smell of Hikaru, the sweetness that clung to his skin and the familiar scent of his shampoo. He could feel the heat radiating from Hikaru’s skin, and it comforted him the way it always had, in their years of knowing each other. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was in that moment almost as good.

Hikaru did eventually pull back, telling Keito that it was night and that he still had a shower to finish, promising to get him some water and a snack as soon as he was done. Keito nodded, murmuring apologies as he realized that his yelling had disrupted Hikaru mid-shower, and he settled in, trying to be patient and stay still as his mind and body only grew more and more awake. He took stock of himself, his head still pounding, and while yes, everything hurt, it was apparent that his right arm was one of the more severely injured parts of his body, as well as his ribs, the subsiding panic allowing him to realize that the pain he’d felt in his chest hadn’t just been emotion—his ribs were definitely bruised.

After his shower Hikaru brought Keito an apple, the two of them sitting up in bed while Hikaru cut Keito bite sized chunks off of the fruit with his pocket knife, holding them up to his lips for Keito to eat as they talked. It was pretty quiet, the house still, and Hikaru looked tired, all bruised up and weary, his eyelids drooping, yawns punctuating many of his sentences. After the apple was gone Keito expected Hikaru to curl up next to him, already smiling at the idea of Hikaru’s warm body resting next to his under the sheets, Hikaru’s comforting presence making him feel relaxed and more willing to try sleeping, despite having just woken up. But instead Hikaru wished Keito a good night and started heading for the door.

“Hey! Wait!” His words made Hikaru stop, and the older man turned to look at him, Keito patting the empty space on the bed that Hikaru had just left, offering it up, his question written in his eyes. Hikaru sighed, looking exhausted and shaking his head

“You’re too hurt Keito. I don’t want to accidentally roll on you, or...well...you know. It’s too risky until you’re a bit better.”

“But…” Keito floundered, searching for an argument, a way to get Hikaru to come back. “But this is your bed! Where will you sleep?” Hikaru pursed his lips, and when he replied his words were measured.

“I’m staying in Yabu’s bed tonight. And you’re staying here. Kumi-cho’s orders.” There was no room for argument, and Keito nodded, embarrassed by his protests, feeling immature, feeling like a burden as Hikaru left the room. He didn’t get much sleep that night. He was restless, upset, and unable to do anything to remedy his situation, or help anyone. He’d been prescribed bed rest plenty of times before, but never had he felt like he’d let the kumi down by not being able to help the way he felt now. It fucking sucked, and he tried getting out of bed, deciding that if he proved that he could sleep on the couch then at least he wouldn’t be forcing Hikaru out of his own space.

He barely made it half a meter away from the bed before he gave up. Sharp pains ran up his chest, his body weak, breathing just making everything hurt worse. His head was killing him, and he had pushed himself to standing by using his arms, his right arm bleeding a little as he had strained it. He was a fucking mess, and he threw himself back in the direction of the bed in defeat, tears of frustration making trailing hotly down his face. He was pathetic, useless, and he lay there in the dark upset and all alone, not able to fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.

He was woken up by a gentle hand on his face, feather light touches on his skin, and he opened his eyes to see Yabu standing over him, the second in command all dressed up in his funeral suit, lips pursed as he examined Keito. Behind him, Keito caught sight of Hikaru getting dressed, their leader tying his tie, his suit jacket spread out on the foot of the bed.

“What’s going on?” Keito asked, moving to push himself up into a sitting position, his ribs sending hot pains licking across his chest in protest. Yabu made a scrunched up face in concern, leaning in and helping Keito up, before telling him

“We’re going to the funeral today. Daiki is going to stay here to help you out.” Keito frowned.

“Funeral? What funeral?” Yabu’s frown grew only more pronounced at Keito’s question, but he answered.

“The funeral for the four underling boys that died in the second fight. Remember?” Keito was stunned by the information. Four more boys, dead? He felt rather ill, and he shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Who?” This time it was Hikaru that answered him.

“Iwasaki Taisho, Abe Aran, Sugeta Rinne, and Kanasashi Issei.” The names didn’t make him feel any better, and Hikaru must have seen that, treating him to a somber, sympathetic half smile.

“We brought you breakfast.” Yabu told him, gesturing to the bedside table with one bandaged up hand, where a tray with rice and a small bowl of soup was resting next to Keito’s gun.

“You should try to eat.” Hikaru said, and Keito nodded, before asking

“How’s Inoo?” Hikaru frowned.

“The same.”

“Can I see Yuto today?”

“Can you make it up the stairs?” At that Keito frowned, contemplating the staircase. It would be really hard, but maybe—“No Keito! If you fucking get out of this bed I swear I’ll cut up your legs to match your arm, understand?” Hikaru looked even more upset, and Keito nodded, cowed. He knew it was unrealistic, to expect to be able to get all the way up to his bedroom on his own, considering how much pain he was in from simply breathing, but still. He wouldn’t be completely convinced Yuto was going to be okay until he saw him for himself. After promising to be good, Hikaru and Yabu left, and Keito spent much of his day cleaning his gun and playing chess with Daiki.

It was nice getting to spend some quality time with Daiki, but it became obvious after Daiki lost his third game in a row that his heart just wasn't in it. He was noticeably distracted, constantly peering across the chessboard to look at Keito’s watch. It was only once Keito managed to capture Daiki’s queen piece with a pawn that Keito decided this was getting out of hand, asking

“Daiki, what's wrong?” Daiki sighed, pursing his lips and leaning back a little, quiet for a long moment before he said

“The funeral. Ryosuke went.” He leaned in, pushing his rook across the board with his index finger, his voice heavy with worry. “He’s been really upset the past few days, and I get it, I know how awful he feels. I went through the same grieving and self loathing after my first kill. I don’t think that he should have gone. I just feel like maybe he would have been better if he’d stayed home with me, instead of spending a whole day dedicated to death. He doesn’t need that right now, even if it’s the death of kids we knew.” Daiki’s voice was strained, and he was frowning, staring blankly at the chessboard, mind elsewhere. “I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea, but he said he wanted to; he said he should since so many of us weren’t physically able to go.”

Keito got the sense that he was missing something, some piece of the puzzle that had perhaps fallen out of his head when he’d been knocked unconscious. He had this nauseating sense of dread wash over him the longer Daiki talked, his mind piecing everything together as best it could. Still, his confusion must have shown on his face, because when Daiki finally looked over at him he said

“You don’t remember?” Keito felt a blush rise in his cheeks, and he shook his head sheepishly, feeling guilty that he’d forgotten something that was apparently very important. Daiki glared at him a little, Keito looking down at the chessboard and knocking Daiki’s rook off the board with his bishop just for something to do. Daiki cursed lowly, focus returned to the game for a moment, before he moved one of his pawns up a square and said “Ryosuke took out Wakaba Ryuya after he tried to put a bullet in your brain. Saved your goddamn life.” Daiki folded his arms over his chest, Keito’s sense of dread only getting stronger as Daiki talked.

“I just wish he’d used his gun so it would have been a clean, instant death instead of the sword. Ryosuke was a mess, covered in blood and just absolutely terrified, and the fucking Wakaba bastard didn’t even die right away, just bled out at his feet. I just...I know that after I...after I’d killed my first man, I didn’t want to leave my room for weeks. I know how Ryosuke is feeling, and…” Daiki’s words had come slower the longer he spoke, and he sighed again, worry pressing lines into his face. “I just wish he was home with me, so I could take care of him. He...he shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Daiki was noticeably distressed, and Keito bit at his bottom lip, trying to process this new information. He didn’t want Daiki to look like that, didn’t want him to be so upset, and Keito could only think of one thing to say.

“Yamada will be home soon. And besides, he’s not alone, Hikaru’s with him.” Daiki snorted, as if dismissing their leader as a potential pillar for Yamada to lean on. Keito frowned. This wasn’t working. “Hikaru has been through the same thing you two both have. He’s killed plenty of people for the good of the kumi, and I’m sure he’s aware of how Yama-chan is feeling.” His insistence caught Daiki’s attention, the older man watching him, focused. “He’s going to be watching out for Yamada today, you’ll see when he comes home. Trust him to take care of your husband, Daiki. Just like he trusts you to take care of me.”

Those final words seemed to have the most impact, Daiki obviously deep in thought as he studied Keito’s face, before he nodded.

“Shit. Okay.” Keito turned back to the board, moving a pawn to capture Daiki’s only remaining bishop.

“Check.”

“Fuck!”


	17. Chapter 17

The days continued like that for about a week, Hikaru eventually coaxed back into bed with Keito once he could make it to the bathroom by himself. It was peaceful, and while it was a little disconcerting that he wasn’t able to see so many of his housemates due to their own bedridden states, it was a nice change from the constant fighting. On his third day confined to Hikaru’s bed Chinen and Ryutaro were declared well enough to be up and about, and they spent a few hours with Keito, playing poker and slowly but surely winning what felt like all of his money. Hikaru was busy with his Kumi-cho duties, but he did make a point to spend time with Keito, and it was during his fifth day trapped in bed that Hikaru pulled out his guitar, sitting as close to Keito as he would allow himself, and he said

“Okay, you up for maybe trying to teach me how to play this thing?” He was leaning in close, a flirty, affectionate light in his eyes, and a small sweet smile on his lips. Keito couldn’t help himself, craning his neck to press a kiss to Hikaru’s lips, the action taking Hikaru by surprise. But then after they separated Hikaru responded with a kiss of his own, Keito sighing into it, happiness rushing through his veins and filling him up because _this_ was what he’d been craving for almost a solid week. They did get a little guitar practice in that afternoon, but most of their time together was spent instead kissing and touching, and Keito wanted Hikaru, wanted all of him so badly, but Hikaru was careful, sensitive to Keito’s injuries, and he never escalated things, which while responsible, was a little frustrating.

Keito was stuck mostly in bed for a little over two weeks before he could properly venture out into the rest of the house, sitting in the living room and eating dinner at the dining table with the others. Yuto was still stuck upstairs, and Keito was trapped on the first floor, and thus had not managed to see his friend. But he worked hard on getting himself back into shape, very aware that they could be attacked at any moment. Inoo had yet to wake, his state something they were all extremely anxious about, unable to discuss it without emotions running high. Takaki spent all of his free time sitting vigil by Inoo’s side, just in case he were to wake. It was sweet in an almost heartbreaking way, and Keito didn’t know what they could do, except hope for Inoo to wake up.

They were nearing mid March when—after a couple of failed attempts—Keito finally made it all the way up the stairs. It took an embarrassingly long time to climb to the top, but when his feet hit the landing a strong sense of accomplishment washed over him, immediately chased by excitement. Yuto was just down the hall. He turned, making his way toward their shared bedroom, and as he did he called out

“Yuto!”

“Keito?” Yuto’s voice had this electric enthusiasm in it that mirrored the jitters Keito felt, and he turned the last corner, a smile already blooming on his lips. Yuto was sitting straight up in bed, eyes alight with his usual high energy, and when he caught sight of Keito he reached up with open arms, mouth open in a wide grin as he exclaimed “Keito!” Keito was beaming, and he rushed across the room, ignoring the pain in his chest as he barrelled into Yuto’s arms. Yuto hugged him tight, Keito squeezing back, so happy, so relieved, because Yuto looked _good._ Yeah, Keito could only really see him from the waist up, but the parts of Yuto he could see looked perfectly healthy, and proof of that was a big weight off of Keito’s shoulders.

“You look like shit.” Yuto told him as soon as the hug ended, Keito sitting cross legged on the foot of Yuto’s bed, careful not to touch Yuto’s legs. His words were serious, but he was smiling, and Keito couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey, at least I’m out of bed.” Yuto groaned, flopping forward, his arms stretched out to grab at Keito’s hands.

“I actually do get up and walk around the room, but not a lot. It’s nice to be home and all, but I have been so amazingly bored stuck in here for weeks.” Yuto whined, and Keito smiled, digging into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulling out a deck of cards.

“Wanna play war or something? I couldn’t bring the chessboard up.”

“Hell yes.” Yuto smiled, moving his legs a bit to get them out of the way, and as he did so he flinched, his hands coming to his left one, helping to shift it manually. Keito frowned.

“How’re you holding up?” Yuto shrugged, suddenly much more melancholy. There was a long pause, Keito looking at him expectantly, too concerned to be sensitive about the subject. He wanted to know what was going on, even if it was a little uncomfortable for Yuto to talk about. Eventually, Yuto got the message, and he sighed, snatching the playing cards out of Keito’s hands, shuffling them as he spoke, his eyes on his hands.

“I can actually use my leg, which is good, but a huge chunk of my thigh is missing now, and it’s super fucking gross. It’s all swollen and I can’t feel much in it. I mean, what I can feel fucking hurts so I suppose that not feeling anything could be better than if my nerves were actually doing their job but...I dunno. I have another surgery in a week, to help with the swelling. The doctor said the feeling may never come back all the way, and I will have to work for months to get my mobility back and even then...I might not be able to move like I used to.” The longer Yuto talked the quieter his voice became. “They said I was lucky they didn’t have to cut it off, but—I just...it just really fucking sucks, is all.” Keito nodded, floundering, looking for something to say, something that might make Yuto feel a little better, but he took too long thinking, Yuto cutting the deck and handing one half to Keito, declaring

“Fuck that. Lets play cards.” They spent most of the day together, curled up in Yuto’s bed. It was wonderful talking with Yuto, Keito immensely happy just to be able to look over and see his friend sitting next to him. Yuto seemed to feel similarly, a few of their housemates peeking through the bedroom door to find out what it was that was making Yuto laugh like that. They sat together until Keito was called to dinner, Keito promising to return the next day and slipping out, making his way back down the hall and toward the staircase. He was just about to attempt getting down them when he caught sight of Takaki and Inoo’s bedroom door, which had been shut. Takaki was probably in there, and he may not have heard Chinen calling up the stairs for them.

Keito knocked lightly, turning the door handle tentatively and pushing it open. The big queen sized bed in the middle of the room was empty, and it took Keito a moment to notice the smaller twin sized bed that was pushed into one corner of the room, upon which Inoo was lying. He didn’t look good, Keito surprised by the state of him. Most of Inoo’s body was covered in bandages, and what little of him Keito could see was discolored, painted in bruises. The worst of the bruising was on his neck, his jawline ringed in deep purples and nasty greens. He had an IV drip in one arm, the bag attached to a hook on the wall like they’d done once for Chinen, when he’d needed an emergency blood transfusion at home.

Takaki was sitting by the bed, his head resting on one of his arms, the other reaching out, hand in Inoo’s own. He was asleep, face pressed into his own elbow, and Keito hesitated for a moment in the doorway, before backing out of the room. Takaki could eat when he woke. He made his way slowly but surely down the stairs alone, but that evening, when he was curled up next to Hikaru in bed he found himself thinking about Takaki and Inoo upstairs, and he hoped now even more than before that Inoo would wake up soon.

In the next few days the last of his stitches were removed, and Keito’s mobility grew exponentially, Keito even starting to do some light sparring with Ryutaro out in the alley. The two of them both moved slower than usual but were still working hard to test themselves, pushing themselves to their limits before helping each other back inside the house. Chinen would always fuss over Ryu whenever the younger man would come inside, limping over and snapping at him a little as he checked to make sure Ryu hadn’t managed to get himself hurt, before pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. Every time Ryu would just stand still and let Chinen do it, not saying anything, but after the kiss he would always smile.

It was that Sunday when after breakfast Hikaru grabbed Keito’s hand, catching his attention, and he asked

“Do you feel up for some practice with your gun today?” Keito paused, considering the distance to the warehouse, but after a moment he nodded, saying

“Just let me get dressed.” He climbed the stairs, pushing himself to go as fast as he could, pleased that the task was only a little bit straining, and he realized that he could probably attempt the ladder to his bunk soon. That thought put a smile on his face. As much as he loved sleeping in bed with Hikaru, he knew that some nights Hikaru needed his own space, and Keito liked having a bed that was _his_. He’d missed it, missed spending nights up with Yuto, talking in the dark. It would be good. Maybe even tonight he could try. He pondered that thought as he entered the bedroom, finding Yuto’s bed empty. Keito frowned, changing into jeans and a tank top, before slipping his handgun into his waistband and throwing on his leather jacket to hide the grip sticking out of the top of his jeans.

He eyed Yuto’s empty bed, concerned, and decided he really should look for his friend and make sure he was okay before leaving. He peered into every room, finally hitting the jackpot when he knocked on the bathroom door and Yamada poked his head out, the other man still clothed but soaking wet, soap suds smeared across his cheek.

“Hey...have you seen Yuto?” Keito asked, bewildered by his friend’s appearance, but Yamada just nodded, his words coming out short and to the point.

“He’s bathing. I’m helping. It’s rather difficult with the huge hole in his thigh.” As if in confirmation of his words, Yuto’s voice drifted through the open door.

“Yama-chan, can you grab the conditioner?” The words were followed by a loud bang, and Yamada immediately turned away from Keito, completely distracted, shutting the door in his face. Keito stood there for a moment, before deciding that hell, as long as Yuto was fine he was happy, and he descended the stairs, Hikaru smiling at him before leading him out of the house. As they walked Hikaru kept close, eventually slipping his hand into Keito’s own, and it took Keito by surprise, Hikaru not often prone to initiating public displays of affection. But it was sweet, and Keito glanced over to see that Hikaru was blushing a little. It was an innocent little display, and it was funny, considering that they were coming up on their second anniversary in a little over a month.

“You okay?” Keito asked, and Hikaru looked over at him, Keito giving his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze, the action putting a small smile on Hikaru’s face.

“Yeah, yeah I just...I’m glad you’re feeling better. I want to be close to you.” His words were quiet, confessed lowly, and Keito felt a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his still healing ribs. He stopped walking, leaning in and placing a quick kiss on Hikaru’s cheek. Hikaru’s smile grew at that, but he didn’t say anything else, and when they got to the warehouse all he said was “When was the last time you were up here?”

“About a month ago. Right before Yuto was shot.” Keito’s words were met with a serious nod, and Hikaru said

“Let’s see how you do.” The next few hours were spent working with their guns, Keito’s injured arm starting to bother him a little as the practice went on. But that was the worst part of it, and Hikaru seemed to notice, commenting in between rounds “You’re not as nervous.” Keito shrugged. There was a pause, before Hikaru asked “Do you think you’re ever going to actually use it?” That made Keito’s blood run cold, and he froze, the notion of actually shooting someone hitting him hard. He looked over the weapon in his hands, and he didn’t feel like a killer. But...but if it was shoot one of his enemies, or they kill one of his housemates, or the underlings...well…

“I don’t know.” He finally confessed, and Hikaru nodded, releasing the magazine on his Glock 22, setting the gun down on the cart they kept their extra ammunition on, and he said

“Well, you look good with that thing. Confident.” Hikaru’s voice was low, and he pressed in close, hands finding Keito’s, and he took the gun from Keito’s grasp, decocking it deftly and placing it on the cart. His eyes found Keito’s, and he took a small step closer, need burning in his gaze. There was a new tension in the air, one Keito barely had time to register before he had bridged what little space was left between them, kissing Hikaru, breathing him in as their lips met. Hikaru let out a high pitched whine and he reached out, pulling Keito in closer sharply, his hands fisted in Keito’s tank top. It wasn’t at all gentle or sweet, and it was then that Keito realized that Hikaru had been waiting, wanting this, and he pressed in closer, one hand coming up to twine his fingers in Hikaru’s hair, as he tasted the need on Hikaru’s tongue.

“Are you—can we—?” Hikaru asked, the words falling between kisses that scorched Keito’s skin, drawing him in and swallowing him up, and it took Keito a moment to answer because all he could think of was Hikaru’s perfect hands on his chest and Hikaru’s perfect nose brushing his cheek, and the intoxicating scent of his shampoo. And so it took him a moment before he murmured yes. He said it quickly, pressed into Hikaru’s mouth, his lips chasing the word. Almost at once Hikaru’s hands ran down his torso, grabbing at the edge of his shirt and pulling it up, and Keito let him, trailing kisses down Hikaru’s throat as soon as it was off, feeling Hikaru’s breath catch underneath his lips.

Hikaru’s skin was hot, and he was trembling a little, Keito feeling Hikaru’s hands come to rest on his ass as he slipped his own hands up Hikaru’s shirt, running them up Hikaru’s scarred torso, the grip on his ass tightening as his hands moved. Hikaru leaned in, pressing a searing kiss to Keito’s lips, his hands pulling Keito in by the hips, all frenzied want and none of his usual finesse. It was a little startling, how desperate Hikaru seemed, but Keito didn’t mind the rough treatment, feeling almost engulfed and swept away in Hikaru’s big hands and warm chest.

Things were moving fast, much faster than usual, and it was a little overwhelming, like they were on the edge of losing control, sliding fast. Sex usually lasted a long time, the act in itself sometimes completely disregarded for hours of kissing and touching, a wanton sensual exploration of each other’s bodies that Keito loved. It was slow and gentle and sweet, at least at the beginning. And Hikaru was always so in control. Not like this. This was a frenzied, desperate pressing of bodies together, hands itching to touch smooth skin and lips rough, tongues forceful. It was an ache, a need for touch, for release, and it surprised Keito just how much Hikaru seemed to need it. And need it now.

Hikaru pulled back from Keito suddenly, eyes glancing up, like he’d woken from a dream, and Keito opened his mouth to ask if everything was okay, but before he could say anything Hikaru asked

“Do you remember what I asked you after Yuto was shot?” Keito tried to focus on the nonsensical question, tried not to get caught up in the rough arousal in Hikaru’s voice or the way his eyes had gone so fiery and dark. He shook his head, not sure why that mattered now of all times, and Hikaru let out a short breath through his nose, leaning in and running his lips across Keito’s throat, tongue flicking out to trace the scar there for a moment before he murmured “I asked you to fuck me so hard I forgot all of our problems. I asked you to pin me down and fuck me until all I could think about was you.” His words sent shivers down Keito’s spine and heat rushing through his veins, and he took in a sharp breath, Hikaru pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw before asking

“So?” It took Keito a few moments to find his voice.

“Lube?” Hikaru’s hand dug around in his jeans pocket, fishing out a small bottle of lube and putting it pointedly in Keito’s hand. Keito’s eyes caught on the wall behind Hikaru, and he pressed in, pushing himself into Hikaru’s space, one hand still clutching the little bottle while his other one tangled in Hikaru’s hair, his lips finding Hikaru’s own. He pushed Hikaru back in little steps, mind racing, wanting to make this good for Hikaru, wanting to be rough and in control like Hikaru seemed to want. He pushed Hikaru back until his shoulders hit the bullet bitten concrete of the warehouse. Hikaru gasped against Keito’s lips, his eyes flying open, and Keito felt his confidence falter for a moment, before Hikaru murmured

“Yes.” Keito grabbed at Hikaru’s shirt, tearing at it, Hikaru helping him to yank it up and over his head, and Keito ran one hand over Hikaru’s muscled stomach before shoving the lube into his own pocket and turning him around, Hikaru catching himself with his hands against the wall. He pressed kisses along Hikaru’s shoulders, and ran his hands over Hikaru’s back before pressing in close, his own erection straining almost painfully in his jeans as he reached around Hikaru’s front, undoing his pants with cautious, gentle hands. Hikaru bucked under his touch, and he sighed in relief as the clothes came off, pooling around his ankles. He whined, pressing back against Keito’s hips, and he said

“Keito, please.” It was so desperate, so hot, and Keito shoved at Hikaru’s pants, hands grabbing Hikaru’s ass, and Hikaru whined, while Keito reached back into his pocket for the lube, swept up in Hikaru. Wanting more than anything to give Hikaru exactly what he wanted. To make him feel good. Keito rolled his hips into Hikaru’s ass, murmuring about how good he was going to make Hikaru feel, trying to be rough, to be in control, like Hikaru wanted. It seemed to work, Hikaru letting out a moan, and Keito uncapped the lube, spreading some on his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it a little before he reached down, and started pushing one inside.

Hikaru immediately pressed back against Keito’s hand, widening his stance and arching his back, and Keito bit down on his shoulder, teeth digging into the scarred flesh, and Hikaru’s eyes fluttered shut, hands scrabbling at the concrete wall as Keito added a second one. The preparation didn’t last as long as usual, Hikaru whining for more, asking Keito to just get on with it, swearing that he was ready whenever Keito would try to slow down and take his time. Usually foreplay would last for at least an hour with them, Keito loving being able to really make Hikaru fall apart with his hands and his lips and his tongue. But they hadn’t fucked in two months, and Keito had to admit that he too was rather impatient. And so when after three fingers Hikaru said

“Stop teasing, Keito. Fuck me.” Keito bit at his lip, dropping the lube to the floor and undoing the clasp on his own jeans, pushing them down just enough to get his dick free. He ran his slick hand across his length, before pushing inside. Hikaru was almost painfully tight, and Keito froze for a moment, afraid that this was too soon, that Hikaru wasn’t ready, but Hikaru seemed to sense his concern because it was then that Hikaru said roughly “I’m good. You feel so good.” As Keito pressed in Hikaru’s back arched, pulling him in closer, deeper, his head practically resting on Keito’s shoulder by the time Keito was fully inside.

Keito’s hands fell to Hikaru’s hips, his breath catching in his throat, and he placed a kiss on the closest bit of Hikaru’s skin he could, before he rolled his hips experimentally, asking quietly

“You good?” Hikaru nodded but Keito paused, mouthing at Hikaru’s neck for a few moments as he waited for Hikaru to relax a little bit more. It was hard to stay still, Hikaru so tight and hot and quivering around him, his body pressed into Keito’s chest, Keito able to feel him breathe, feel his heart beating. It was made especially difficult when Hikaru spoke, his voice so low and rough it was practically a growl

“C’mon Keito. Make me feel this for weeks. Make me forget anything that’s not you and your thick cock.” Keito had momentarily forgotten Hikaru’s request, forgotten that Hikaru wanted to be dominated, and he almost apologized, catching himself and instead just rolling his hips deep and hard. Hikaru cursed, his body shoved forward into the wall, and as Keito moved he pressed Hikaru in closer and closer until Hikaru’s chest was up against the concrete, his head turned, cheek resting between his hands on the warehouse wall, pressed in, pinned between Keito’s body and the bullet bitten concrete, his eyes shut.

Keito pressed in close, caging Hikaru in with his arms. He could feel Hikaru’s whole body quivering with need, feel the hitch in his breathing whenever he would press back in, feel Hikaru tighten around him when he hit a good spot. Keito worried for a moment that it was too much, before Hikaru murmured a few quick words of encouragement, bookended by choice curse words, but even that didn’t last long before Hikaru’s voice left him, every breath a moan.

Keito could feel when Hikaru started coming close, could feel him tighten around him, and he pressed in closer, fucked him faster, one hand finding Hikaru’s own nearly forgotten erection, wrapping around it with quick strokes. And when Hikaru finally did cry out, his whole body shuddering with his release, Keito fucked him through it, his movements becoming less refined as he chased his own orgasm. It hit him all at once, and he came deep inside of Hikaru, his grip on Hikaru’s waist hardening as he buried his face in the back of Hikaru’s neck.

When he came down he could feel Hikaru panting beneath him, and he loosened his grip on his boyfriend’s body, apologizing, worried that he’d been holding on too tightly. But in response Hikaru just reached down and took Keito’s left hand in his own, giving it a squeeze, his breathing too ragged, body too spent for much else.

Keito pulled out slowly, and Hikaru let out a long exhale, Keito’s release running down his thigh while Keito placed kisses on his neck and back, Hikaru shifting, gathering himself and slowly turning around, Keito reaching for him, pulling him in for a kiss. Hikaru sighed into it, Keito feeling rather weak and lazy after his orgasm, wrapping his arms around Hikaru and leaning into him, breaking the kiss to bury his face in Hikaru’s broad, warm chest. He stayed there for a while, Hikaru wrapping his arms around Keito’s shoulders, and when they finally pulled apart he looked over to see his boyfriend smiling at him, a huge love filled grin on his face, and Keito leaned back in again, kissing Hikaru and feeling that smile against his own lips.


	18. Chapter 18

By that evening the places on Hikaru’s skin that Keito had nipped and sucked and kissed during their time spent at the warehouse had bloomed into dark reddish marks, and to top things off he was walking rather gingerly. There was no doubt as to what had happened during their shooting practice, and even Yamada—who was usually the most reserved of their group when it came to discussing things like sex, or intimacy—would catch Keito’s eye with a knowing grin. It was a little embarrassing, and the pervasive knowing looks and whispers got to be so much that at dinner Hikaru set down his chopsticks and said to the table

“Will you quit with the staring? We fucked. I know, you know, everyone knows.” There was a pause, before Ryutaro asked, a shit eating grin on his face

“Was it good?” Keito nearly choked on his rice at the question, a blush rising up his cheeks instantly, and Chinen whacked the back of Ryutaro’s head in retribution for the question. Keito glanced at Hikaru, wide eyed, to find that he too was pink in the face.

“Our sex life is none of your business.” Hikaru declared. But then he met Keito’s eyes for a brief moment, a grin seeming to bloom on his face despite himself, and he murmured so that just Keito could hear him “So fucking good.”

That night, despite his earlier thoughts about trying to get in his own bed, Keito did sleep in Hikaru’s bed with him, but the next one he decided to try and tackle the ladder to his bunk. It was an endeavor that was met with enthusiastic exclamations and only slightly sarcastic teasing from Yuto, his friend getting to his feet and hopping over to watch as Keito traipsed up the rungs of his ladder, before successfully flopping onto the mattress, the impact sending a dull twinge of pain shooting through his still healing chest. It was nice being back in his own bed, nice lying awake in the darkness, chatting with Yuto for hours. He was up long after Yuto fell asleep however, the bed feeling empty without Hikaru next to him.

He came downstairs the following morning early. Yuto had woken him up, his friend having shuffled around their bedroom like a bull in a china shop, banging into furniture and jolting Keito awake. He'd promised to bring Yuto some breakfast, and he expected to be the first one down, surprised when he turned the corner and was met with Hikaru and Yabu sitting at the kitchen table, talking quietly, their faces serious. When Keito entered the room they stopped, looking up at him, and there was a level of concern in Hikaru’s eyes that made Keito stop, hesitant as he asked

“Did something happen?” Yabu sighed, and Hikaru glanced over at his right hand man, before nodding.

“I got a call from Kouchi this morning. Shintaro and his friends have been helping to watch over the underlings recently, considering the attacks. Four of the underling boys didn’t come home last night.” There was a nervous energy in the air, and the implications of missing boys struck a chord in Keito, and he pursed his lips, the dread that had just started subsiding a bit over the past few weeks rising back up in his chest. “Once everyone else is awake we’ll talk about it.” Hikaru sounded rather fierce, an underlying anger in him that whenever it manifested itself made Keito rather nervous.

He nodded, wanting to kiss his boyfriend, to draw some of that anger out of him and get some comfort from his lips, but Yabu was there, and so instead he went to the fridge, and got to work making Yuto breakfast. He was in the middle of frying some eggs when it occurred to him that Yuto would probably prefer to be at the family meeting Hikaru had insinuated was to happen, and so he abandoned his pan in favor of returning to the bedroom. Yuto was almost completely naked, working his bandaged leg through a hole in a fresh pair of underwear when Keito came in. There was some confusion, Keito helping Yuto get dressed while explaining why he didn’t have Yuto’s breakfast.

It took a while to get Yuto up to speed and clothed, and by the time they had tackled the staircase—in the end Keito just carried his friend down on his back—most of the other men had made their way to the kitchen. It was lively, everyone eating or cooking or both, lots of small conversations happening, and it wasn’t until they had all made it to their seats that Hikaru finally said

“I have a matter that needs to be talked about.” The change in the room was instantaneous. Everyone grew quiet and still, fear and concern washing over the group in a wave, all eyes on their leader. Hikaru pursed his lips, leaning forward in his chair and folding his hands on the table, before telling the rest of them what he and Yabu had told Keito earlier in the morning. That simmering rage was back, just under the surface as he spoke, and a shiver ran down Keito’s spine. While Keito and Yuto had been wrestling Yuto into a new pair of sweatpants upstairs, it appeared that Hikaru and Yabu and decided what response the kumi would have to these disappearances, because after Hikaru explained what had happened he said

“Yabu and I have decided that we have to take action. I want everyone that is able—so not you, Yuto—to pick a partner and go out looking for the missing boys today. The kids we’re looking for are Okamoto Kauan, Hanuida Amu, Takahashi Fu, and Kawaguchi Yu. I don’t care who takes what area of the territory or how you look. Everyone needs to be back before nightfall. If they haven’t turned up by then—” He paused, everyone thinking the same thing. “—we’ll raid the Wakaba, and get them back.” There were nods and sounds of confirmation and agreement, and Keito caught Yuto’s eye, his friend sulking a little.

After that everyone started splitting up into duos, Keito walking with Yuto over to the living room, sitting down with him on one of the couches.

“I want to go.” Yuto grumbled, frowning, and Keito nodded, understanding. It sucked being unable to participate in fights. It made one feel useless and powerless. But there was simply no way that Yuto would be helpful with the condition he was in.

“But someone needs to stay here with Inoo. If he woke up and the house was empty he’d be so afraid. He’s going to need someone to help him when he does wake up. That’s an important job.” At Keito’s words Yuto glanced over at him, still pouting a little, but he nodded, picking up his busted leg and setting it out on the coffee table.

“You’re right. I know you are.” He paused, leaning into Keito’s side a little, a small smile on his lips. “Thanks Keito.” It was then that Keito felt a hand on his shoulder, and he leaned back, tilting his head up to find Hikaru standing behind them, the Kumi-cho looking down at him as he asked

“Want to be my partner?” Keito was mildly surprised by the offer, and he couldn’t help but ask

“What about Yabu?” Hikaru blinked down at him for a moment, before he said

“Yabu is partnering with Takaki. Takaki was trying to get out of looking, he said he doesn’t want to leave Inoo alone. I told him Yuto would be here with him, but he was still protesting. Yabu managed to convince him that they should be partners for this.” Hikaru sighed, glancing over to where the two older men were standing, talking quietly, concern on his face. “I don’t know what his fucking deal is, but he needs to get over it. We have shit to do.” Hikaru turned back to Keito, some of the anger that had been present in his voice all morning draining away as he said “So how about it, Keito?”

Keito nodded, and it wasn’t long before they were out, headed southeast through their territory. As they looked Hikaru was mostly silent, only speaking in relation to their task, his voice hard and serious, and Keito could feel Hikaru’s anxiety about the lost boys in the sharp way his words rolled off of his tongue, and it put him on edge. He kept telling himself that the boys would be fine, that they would come home, but the more he told himself that the less he believed it, and as the hour grew later the more distressed Keito became.

When the sun hit the horizon line they made for home, Keito feeling himself getting more and more worked up the closer they got to the building. A few blocks away he stopped walking, his feet coming to a halt as he reached out and grabbed Hikaru by the arm. Hikaru froze, turning to look at him, and as soon as he met Keito’s gaze he frowned, stepping in close. Keito pressed himself into Hikaru’s chest, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Hikaru’s neck, breathing him in. Hikaru’s arms settled around his waist, his cheek pressed to Keito’s ear, and they were still for a moment, before Hikaru spoke.

“We have to go home. We need to know if any of the others found the underlings.” Keito nodded, lifting his face out of Hikaru’s neck, but he didn’t let go, instead saying

“I just need you for a minute.” He leaned in and Hikaru kissed him, his tongue pulling Keito in, hands tightening their grip on Keito’s waist, strong and sure, and it was everything Keito wanted, his anxiety forced back into submission by the time the kiss broke.

“After we raid the Wakaba and get those boys back, want to...you know...spend a day in bed?” Hikaru asked, his chest heaving a little, their noses just a hair apart. “We can lock ourselves in my room. You can take all the time you want, and we’ll have all of my toys, not like last time.”

“Yeah.” Keito nodded, the words reassuring him. It was more than just an offer of sex. It was an unspoken promise that everything was going to be okay. That they both would come home safe. Hikaru nodded back, and Keito leaned in, placing a kiss on his cheek before pulling away. Hikaru treated him to the first proper smile Keito had seen all day, and he nodded, before sighing and looking down the street toward their home, one small word falling from his lips.

“Good.”

No one found the underling boys. A somber call to Shintaro confirmed that the missing kids hadn’t found their way home on their own either, and as soon as that information was presented they all started getting changed into their suits and pulling out their weapons, an urgency to their movements. It was time to act quickly, before it was too late. Keito wondered briefly what would happen if they didn’t find the missing boys when they attacked the Wakaba, but he didn’t dwell on it for long. They needed to get through this fight first, then they could deal with whatever came after.

He changed into his suit quickly, taking his Sig Sauer and loading a fresh clip into it before tucking it into the waistband of his pants and stuffing his knife in his pocket, a buzzing anxiety in his chest. All he could think about were the four missing boys, and what could have happened to them. The possibilities made him feel sick. He wasn’t the only one; Yuto looked scared and miserable as he wished them all farewell, promising to keep watch over Inoo with a twisted grimace on his face, like he knew it was for nothing. There was no real plan, everything was rushed, everyone feeling the urgency. They just had to get the underling kids back.

They all stuck together as they headed out into the night, but they were silent, everyone tense, fearing the worst. There was a nervous energy in the air, and it only heightened as they caught sight of the Wakaba base, everyone dispersing, as if getting away from each other would help ease the feeling that was crackling through the air like electricity. Keito watched them all go, instead sticking close to Hikaru’s side. The two of them could watch each other’s backs. They were both going to make it out okay. They were going to be fine.

They stayed quiet, running through the night toward the Wakaba building silently, and they were met with no resistance until they burst inside, the bang of the door against the concrete wall alerting the enemy of their arrival. Keito could feel the routine of it settling in as he turned a corner and caught sight of the first Wakaba underling, a familiarity settling into his skin as he swung his fist, hitting the guy right in his jaw, sending his head cracking backward into the wall. Keito kicked him a few times just to make sure the guy was down, before stepping over him to follow after Hikaru, grabbing his knife from his pocket as he walked, flicking it open with a twist of his thumb.

The two of them worked pretty well together, Keito able to keep one eye on their backs while Hikaru took the lead. It was almost unsettling just how familiar some parts of the Wakaba building were to him now, but that thought didn’t keep his focus, barely registering before a knife was swung at his face, and he had to pull away so as to not get cut. The guy wielding the knife swung it wildly, frenzied, and Keito backed up before kicking out, the knife catching on the rubber of his sole, hitting it dully and sending it flying to the floor. Hikaru took the opening to swing his own blade down the Wakaba guy’s face dragging it in a long line across the guy’s cheek, a yelp of pain falling from his lips as Hikaru and Keito turned away.

They pushed deeper and deeper into the Wakaba base, and the further in they got the more enemies they ran into. Keito could feel Hikaru getting more frenzied next to him with every empty room they peered into, and every Wakaba bastard’s face they smashed in. They were on a mission, and they weren’t slowing down, weren’t stopping to really be careful and make sure the guys they knocked down stayed down before moving on. The missing underlings came first, and after that they could focus on doing some real damage. Hikaru, for his part, seemed to have some idea of where he was going, leading Keito further and further into the thick of the Wakaba base, through twisting hallways and dank rooms, into a portion of the building Keito had never reached before.

It was only then that off in the distance Keito heard the sound of a gun going off and he froze, fear dumping into his stomach like a bucket of ice. He took a punch to his gut as a result, the impact doubling him over and knocking the wind out of him for a moment, Hikaru turning around and kicking out, catching the man that had punched Keito in the chin with his boot, blood spraying from the man’s mouth upon impact. Keito tried to refocus but he couldn’t, a new anxiety about the gunshot chilling him, and when there were more he glanced back the way they’d come, opening his mouth to suggest that maybe they should go back—they hadn’t run into any of their housemates yet—when Hikaru said

“C’mon Keito. It’s right up there.” He pointed to a door at the end of the hallway they were in, and Keito blinked in confusion, straightening up and asking

“What?” Hikaru put his knife away, pulling his guns out instead, the action making Keito take in a shaky breath. Hikaru looked terrifying, a fury in his eyes as he said

“That’s where I found Ryu when they’d captured him. It’s the only place left; the underlings have to be there.” Hikaru didn’t even stop to see if Keito was behind him, running down the hall. Keito nodded, taking a deep breath and following in Hikaru’s footsteps, barging through the door with him, his knife ready, the weight of his gun heavy at the small of his back. He froze as soon as he stepped through the door, Hikaru cursing in his ear, as more sounds of muffled gunshots reached their ears from off in the distance.

The room was small, with one other door at the far side that was open, and in the center there were the four guys they had been looking for. It was four young men, barely adults, lined up, their bodies beaten and bruised, lips split and eyes swollen, trails of blood running from their nostrils and down their chins from where they’d been punched, cuts littering their pale skin. All of them were tied up in an eerie resemblance to the Wakaba underlings Yuto and Hikaru had tortured, with gaping gashes carved deep across their throats, eyes and mouths open wide in silent terror, blood running down their still chests. They were still dripping blood, pools of it growing under their chairs. Keito could barely process the figures, the obvious signs of torture on the four young guys’ bodies making it hard to look at them.

He turned to Hikaru, reaching out on instinct, because he needed to touch him, needed Hikaru to make some of the awful nauseating grief and fear in his chest settle, or to take some of Hikaru’s pain perhaps; when a red hot pain ripped across his ribs with an ear splitting bang, and he looked up to find himself staring across the room down the barrel of a gun.


	19. Chapter 19

Keito stumbled into Hikaru, and the Kumi-cho raised his glock, firing at the man on the opposite end of the room, shoving Keito toward the door and yelling, Keito unable to make the words out over the numb ringing in his ears. He stumbled back out the door they’d entered in, Hikaru at his back, pushing him. When they made it out Hikaru pulled the door shut and spun to face him, their faces a hair apart, his words coming out fast and frantic, and he had one hand on the doorknob, holding it shut, the gun in his left hand pointed at the door.

“Can you run?” Keito nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side. “We need to get out of here. We’ll split up, and try to find the others. Tell them to retreat back to the usual meeting place.” There was the sound of someone cursing from the other side of the door, Hikaru bracing himself as the door began to shake, his eyes wide, face pale.

“But what about the bodies?” Keito couldn’t help but ask. Hikaru shook his head

“No time! Go!” Keito paled, realizing that Hikaru was planning on holding the door, and Keito didn’t want to leave him behind. But Hikaru was his leader, and at that moment he needed to follow orders. Hikaru let off a few rounds, the bullets cutting through the metal door like a hot knife through butter, and Keito turned and ran, adrenaline and fear coursing through his system, the burning pain in his side bringing tears to his eyes. He dashed through the halls, getting through a few quick fights with only a bloody nose and what he knew were going to be some big bruises, before bursting through the first exterior door he could find. He’d been expecting a much larger resistance, expecting the sounds of Hikaru’s firefight to have drawn many more Wakaba, but his path had been barely obstructed, and it wasn’t until he was outside that he saw why.

It was total chaos. Daiki was covered in blood standing with his back to Keito, a pistol in his hand that must have been out of ammunition as he was wielding it like a bat, staring down five Wakaba guys. Ryutaro and Yabu were both on the ground unmoving, stained in red. As Keito took the situation in Daiki yelled, his voice rough, and he lunged, bringing the butt of the gun down hard, bludgeoning the nearest opponent on the side of his head, following through with a punch to the chin. The other Wakaba rushed to attack Daiki, and Keito lept to help, stepping over Yabu’s still body to grab the closest Wakaba member, one arm wrapping around the guy's throat from behind, yanking him backwards, away from Daiki.

The guy struggled, clawing at Keito’s arm, one elbow ramming hard into the bullet wound on Keito’s side, Keito letting out a loud yelp of pain, his grip loosening in reflex, and the guy he’d grabbed spun around, kicking out and hitting Keito in the hip with his boot. Keito’s eyes were watering, tears rolling down his face at the pain, and as he pulled himself to his full stature Daiki seemed to notice him, the older man screaming, his voice full of a desperate rage unlike any Keito had ever heard

“KILL HIM! KEITO, KILL HIM!” Keito looked over at his opponent, not recognizing the man but knowing who he must be, fear and surprise hitting him as he stared over at Wakaba Ichinojo. Daiki let out a roar of anguish, the sound guttural and raw, and Keito backed up, almost tripping over Ryutaro where he was lying on the cold ground, reaching for his gun, his heart pounding in his ears. He glanced down at Ryutaro, trying to avoid stepping on his friend, and in that moment a sick feeling hit him, the shock cruel and abrasive, as he stared into Ryu’s face.

Ryutaro’s eyes were open wide, staring blankly up at him, and his face was splattered in blood and small chunks of flesh and bone, his mouth open, split like an overstuffed trash bag. Most of his bottom jaw was gone, the whole area gaping and garrish, unrecognizable but for a few teeth in the mess of mangled flesh. Blood was gleaming wet in the light of the moon, pooled around Ryu’s head, Keito’s shoe stepping in it. Keito was trembling, barely breathing, the breaths shallow and painful in his chest, and he couldn’t process the sight at his feet, a miserably numb emptiness in his head as his body reacted, eyes tearing away from the mangled, gruesome remains of Ryutaro to see Ichinojo still standing in front of him, Daiki’s tortured screams still echoing through the night.

He raised his gun and Ichinojo ran, the other Wakaba following suit. Keito cocked the pistol, his vision blurring with tears, breath coming in small, sharp gasps as he fired a few rounds. None of them hit, his whole body trembling as the Wakaba disappeared into the darkness. He felt frozen there, unable to process the world around him, just standing with his arm outstretched, gun pointing out into the night, as tears rolled down his cheeks. Daiki meanwhile tossed the pistol he’d been bludgeoning Wakaba members with to the ground and ran over to where Yabu was lying, falling to his knees when he got there.

Keito just stood there numbly, eyes following Daiki’s movements as he leaned over Yabu’s body, not really processing any of it until Daiki turned from Yabu, and Keito could see the the horrible anguish on his housemate’s face, and the fury seeping out from under his skin. Daiki caught sight of him, and when their eyes met it was like something clicked, and they bridged the space between them, throwing their arms around each other. Daiki was slick with sweat and blood, and he was trembling, but his grip was fierce, and Keito felt a sob rise up in his throat as he tucked Daiki’s head under his chin.

They stayed that way for a long moment, hovering on the edge between pulling themselves together and total collapse. It was only when Daiki shifted and a sharp pain from his bullet wound coursed through his torso that Keito got up the courage to say

“Yabu…?” Daiki’s voice was rough and raw, full of unshed tears as he said

“Totally fucked, but alive.” Keito nodded, an unacknowledged fear he’d been harboring falling out of his throat. Daiki paused, asking “The underlings, d’you know if anyone’s found them?” Keito tensed up, the mutilated corpses of the boys they’d found all tied up earlier in the night flashing to the front of his mind accompanied by another wave of nausea.

“Dead.” Was all he said, and Daiki cursed, the sound a fierce growl. Keito could feel hot tears on his neck, the quiver in Daiki’s voice confirmation that the older man was crying, and Keito didn’t know what to do, still not fully grasping their situation, his brain not willing to acknowledge just how horrific their reality was.

“DAIKI!” The call came from the north, and Daiki froze for a split second before yanking himself away from Keito’s arms and saying in a frenzied panic

“I need your clothes. Now!” Keito stared at him for a moment, and that was a moment too long for Daiki, the older man yanking on Keito’s jacket, able to have it half off before Keito sprung to action, the frantic energy in Daiki’s movements keeping him from asking questions, instead just ripping the shirt from his shoulders, tearing it a bit in his haste. Daiki threw himself across their little clearing, Keito standing in the chilly March night, his injured side agitated by the sudden assault, watching as Daiki took the shirt and jacket and threw them over top of Ryutaro’s mutilated face, just as Yamada came into view. He looked panicked, his sword drawn, a few cuts down his face and arms, and Daiki looked up, opening his arms and calling

“RYOSUKE!” There was nothing but relief in Daiki’s face as his husband bolted toward them, Daiki sweeping the younger man up in his arms, passion in his grip, relief and panic in his eyes. It wasn’t until after the hug that Yamada noticed Ryutaro’s partially covered corpse, and Keito watched him realize just what it was, the nausea rising up in his throat again as Yamada’s face contorted in shock and grief. Keito took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself, trying not to panic as Daiki noticed his husband’s expression and he said fervently. “Don’t look, Ryosuke.” Yamada’s eyes were glued on the torn, bloodstained shirt covering Ryutaro’s face, and his voice came out in a hard sob as he asked

“Who?” There was a long silence, neither Keito nor Daiki wanting to say it, and Yamada grew more and more visibly upset as it dragged on, before he said again “Who?!”

“R-Ryu.” Keito barely registered that he’d spoken, not really feeling present, withdrawing inside of himself, disassociating from the situation, knowing that if he didn’t there would be no way he would make it out. That thought alone was enough to send his stomach churning.

“Oh god.” Yamada’s voice was weak, and Daiki didn’t let go of him, not until Yabu let out a small whine, drawing everyone’s attention, and reminding them that they couldn’t just stand around. Keito welcomed the distraction, and he told himself not to think about Ryu, not to think about the dead underlings, or the fact that he’d come face to face with Ichinojo and let him get away. Just think about getting Yabu to the meet up place. Just do what Hikaru had asked him to do. He fell to his knees by Yabu’s side, squinting in the darkness to try and get a good look at the older man’s wounds, taking deep breaths in an attempt to quell the nausea and get his heart rate down.

Yabu was a fucking mess, his torso having been slashed to ribbons, a long deep gash dug into the left side of his face. His face was contorted in pain, and Keito leaned down, shoving his handgun into his waistband and struggling for a moment with words before he spoke, his voice a weak trembling mess.

“I’m g-going to get you ho-home.” Yabu’s only reply was another whine, but it was better than nothing, and Keito wrapped his arms around the older man as tenderly as he could, before starting to pull him up to his feet. Yabu yelped in pain, and he latched onto Keito, trying to anchor himself. By the time Keito was back at his full posture Yabu was half draped over his bare shoulder, new trails of blood running down his skin, his face wrenched up in pain and his breathing shallow in Keito’s ear. They were both shaky, barely keeping themselves up, yet despite that Keito managed to start walking, the movement excruciatingly slow.

He didn’t look back, his mind a blank numb emptiness that he let wash over him. It was almost a relief, not thinking, not being able to think, and he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or what exactly had happened in that time, but in an instant he was snapped back into his body by Yabu’s voice in his ear.

“Ryu—?” It felt like a punch in the gut, Keito unable to breathe, sucking air without any relief. Panic hit him full force, and he opened his mouth a few times, nothing coming out, before he found himself murmuring

“He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.” The words seemed to comfort Yabu, and Keito felt hot tears run down his own cheeks, could feel the breakdown welling up inside of him, pressing against his ribs, and he wrapped his arm tighter around Yabu, pushing on. It was only then that he noticed Daiki and Yamada following behind him, and he glanced back to see Daiki’s arms holding around the body, Keito’s jacket and shirt wrapped around the upper half, keeping the gore hidden, while Daiki’s husband had his Glock out, eyes scanning the area, jaw set, prepared. The whole scene made Keito feel wretched, and he wished he hadn’t looked.

He had just caught sight of the meet up point, able to see people already standing there under their usual streetlamp off in the distance when Yabu slipped fully out of consciousness, going limp in his arms. Shit. He stopped, trying to readjust his grip on Yabu, ignoring the burning pain shooting through his own body, before he eventually just decided that any time for delicacy had run out and he bent down, Yabu heavy as he collapsed over his back, and he slung the older man up over his shoulder, holding onto him by wrapping his arms around Yabu’s tiny hips, fingers digging into his belt to hold him there.

It was harder going with Yabu’s dead weight, and the Ariokas passed him, both rushing ahead, and Keito watched as they ran, everything just _heavy,_ physically pressing down on him as he saw them reach the others, and knew the new reality that was being forced upon them all wrapped up in Keito’s ruined shirt. He faltered, not wanting to see the others grief, not able to process his own. Not able to deal. It was quiet in that moment, startlingly so, and Keito just stood there, feeling Yabu’s heartbeat under his fingers as he watched his housemates like observing ants as they moved around Daiki and the—Ryutaro, unable to move any further. Falling to pieces.

“Let me see him!” A sharp yell broke the silence, harsh and full of anger. “NO! LET GO. LET ME SEE HIM!” Chinen’s voice held more rage in it than Keito had ever heard, and he barely had time to register that before another voice was calling his own name. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out the first try. And then the second only allotted for one word, barely a whisper

“Here.” He swallowed, blinking a fresh wave of hot tears out of his eyes and he tried again, voice louder the third time “Here! I’m here!” He started moving again, walking toward the group, and he heard footsteps, peering through the darkness to see Hikaru running toward him, cursing when he caught sight of Keito, his voice rough with tears and anger. The cursing just kept going, a long string of words as he got closer, his eyes raking over Keito’s body, and Yabu’s limp form slung over Keito’s shoulder. He immediately reached out, haphazardly pulling Yabu off of Keito and into his own arms, still muttering strings of curse words.

“Fuck. Keito what—what happened?” Hikaru’s voice was shaking, and in the background Chinen was still screaming, and Keito found that he couldn’t open his mouth. He couldn’t even start to think the words he would need to answer Hikaru’s question, and when Hikaru asked a few more—‘are you okay’, ‘where are you hurt’, ‘how bad is Yabu’—all he could find it in himself to do was shake his head, Hikaru’s eyes wide and panicked. He glanced over Hikaru’s shoulder, looking past his leader to where the others were, where Chinen was on his knees on the ground, Takaki bent down over him, Daiki still standing holding Ryutaro, his husband pressed into his side, and promptly threw up.

His body heaved, burned and stung with pain, trembling as he fought to keep himself standing. Everything smelled like stomach acid and blood and gunpowder, and he was crying again, the tears rolling down his cheeks hot and wet. Hikaru just stood there, not able to do much with Yabu in his arms, and after a few moments he said quietly

“We need to get out of here. We need to go home Keito.” Keito looked up at him, still hunched over from the vomiting, and he nodded, wiping at his mouth with his bare hand and standing up, the shaking in his body only worse, the cold sweat covering his bare torso making him shiver. Hikaru nodded at him, looking him over, and he opened his mouth, saying “I—you—” There was a pause, and in the end Hikaru didn’t say it, instead turning and jerking his head for Keito to follow, marching through the grass back to the rest of their housemates, not stopping as he passed by the others, Keito trailing behind him.

They all fell behind their leader and fell silent, Takaki carrying Chinen, the smaller man’s body curled up in a ball in Takaki’s arms, his face pressed into Takaki’s neck. Daiki still was holding the body, his husband’s hands trailing down his arms and across his back as they walked. The only sounds they made were the occasional whimpers of pain and sharp sobs that refused to stay trapped in their throats. Keito could feel himself drifting, could feel that numb disassociation tugging at him, and he let it take over, let the calm nothingness drag him in, his feet following their leader as Hikaru led them all home.


	20. Chapter 20

The steps leading up to their red door were the first thing Keito registered, and Hikaru stepped to the side allowing Keito in front to open the door as his hands were full. Keito pushed his way in, the warm lights from the kitchen startlingly bright, and he stepped into the house feeling rather overwhelmed by how _normal_ and ordinary it all looked. As though everything was just as it had been when they’d left. There was the sound of scrambling from the second story and he tensed up as his housemates came in after him, looking up to see Yuto come into view at the top of the stairs, his friend smiling and announcing as he leaned down to look at them

“Guy’s Inoo! He’s awake, he—” Yuto paused, freezing in place and he frowned, brow furrowing in concern as he asked “What? Fuck; what is it?” Keito threw himself onto the second step of the stairs, the grip of his Sig Sauer digging into his spine when he tried to lean back, making him jump. He twisted around, pulling the pistol out of his waistband and dropping it by his feet. The flesh covering his left ribs burned in protest at the movement, and he tried to focus on that pain as Yuto passed him on the stairs, his housemates voices going over his head, their tones enough to know he didn’t want to participate in the conversation.

He examined his own body, surprised to find that he was positively bathed in blood now that he could see what all of that pain actually looked like. His right forearm was glazed over in thin running trails of red from cuts, the stripes thick across his skin, before falling off where the blood was still dripping a little onto the floor. His torso meanwhile had a solid sheet of blood coming down from where a bullet had just barely grazed him, leaving a track of exposed flesh about ten centimeters long, the source of most of his pain. He had smears of what he assumed was Yabu’s blood all down his arms and hands and chest, and the parts of his torso that weren’t stained red were starting to show discoloration, bruising where he’d been hit. His hands hurt, and he suspected that a few of his fingers were fractured but he didn’t fucking care.

Chinen was deposited next to him, the smaller man scrambling to stay connected to Takaki, their housemate having to physically pry their former leader off of him, and in that moment Keito reached out one trembling hand, laying it on Chinen’s chest and holding him back so Takaki could stumble away. Keito looked out at the rest of his housemates for the first time since they’d gotten home. Daiki and Yuto were in the corner of the living room that was usually reserved for their Christmas tree in December, bent down over the body. Yuto was crying, but he was still moving, still focusing on whatever task it was they were doing.

Yabu had been lain out across the kitchen table, and he was startling in the fluorescent lights, his clothing in tatters, everything red with blood. He was still unconscious, and the stillness was unnerving, Keito keeping his eyes fixated on the older man until he discerned a subtle rise and fall in his chest, a tension loosening inside of him. Hikaru was hovering around Yabu, working on peeling blood saturated clothing off of his friend, his face screwed up and ugly in grief, whole body tightly wound. Takaki wasn’t moving well, paler than usual, and Yamada sat him down, peeling off his tattered jacket and blood soaked shirt to reveal an extremely ugly cut that ran all the way over his left shoulder and down his back to his right hip, deep and gruesome.

Chinen sat there trembling for a few moments and Keito wasn’t sure who moved first or quite how it happened but he ended up with Chinen’s body curled into his chest, his arms naturally settling around him. Chinen’s head was resting against his shoulder, and it was almost easy; as though they’d done this before. But Chinen was still against him, his eyes locked on where Ryutaro’s body was lying in the corner of their living room. Keito couldn’t see his face at this angle, but that was okay. He didn’t need to see to know how Chinen was feeling. One of Chinen’s legs was pressed against his bullet wound, the fabric of his slacks brushing painfully up against it, but Keito didn’t have the energy or will to do anything but wince whenever some small movement would send a jolt of pain running through him.

He didn’t know how long they sat together. Chinen got up at one point, moving away from the stairs and onto the couch and dragging Keito wordlessly along with him, plopping him down and curling into him again, his whole body shaking, his eyes locked on Ryutaro. Keito found himself watching too, watching as Daiki and Yuto brought a sheet out of the laundry room and unwrapped Ryu from the remnants of Keito’s clothes, before folding him into the sheet. Keito stiffened, recoiling at the sight, but Chinen didn’t flinch and didn’t look away, just stared from his place in Keito’s arms silently as the corpse disappeared inside of the white fabric, first one sheet, and then two when the blood started to leak through.

Everyone was quiet, the only sound Keito could hear Chinen’s choked, ragged breathing. Then there was a hand reaching down over Keito’s shoulder, the fingers curling into Chinen’s hair, and they both turned to look, Takaki standing behind the couch, still looking a little faint, but all bandaged up, and he said quietly

“C’mon Chii.” Chinen nodded, not stopping to allow anyone to look him over or clean the blood off of his face before he and Takaki disappeared upstairs. Keito just sat there trembling with fatigue and eventually Yuto came over with a first aid kit and a wet towel, his movements slow and heavy, his hurt leg dragging a little as he moved. Yuto plopped down next to Keito on the couch and they looked at each other for a few moments, Keito able to see Yuto’s grief in his wet eyes and the curl of his lips and Keito knew that Yuto could see his own, in that moment the two of them understanding without words. Keito reached out grabbing Yuto’s hand, and for a long time they sat together clinging to each other in silence, sharing their pain.

Yuto eventually washed Keito of the blood staining his skin, the sharp tang of iron hitting them as he wiped it all away. Yuto cursed when he got to the gunshot wound, his eyes flicking up to Keito’s face, concern having overtaken grief for a moment. Keito didn’t know what to make of the injury, so he said nothing. It hurt. A lot. But there was a burning aching pain in his chest that made him want to claw out of his own skin; this injured bit of flesh was nothing compared to the pain of his grief. It wasn’t like it would kill him. The bullet had missed. Yuto cleaned him up good, wrapping his torso thickly in gauze and stitching up a particularly deep cut on his arm.

When he was done they just stayed sitting there, looking at each other so they wouldn’t look at the body in the other corner of the room. There were the sounds of the Ariokas patching each other up in the kitchen and Keito realized that Hikaru was still over there, still working on Yabu, and he felt like an idiot. He’d been so relieved to get Yabu home that he’d dismissed the older man from his mind as though getting him back alive was all that had needed to be done. He didn’t really want to get up but he needed to, so he pulled himself to his feet and wandered over into the kitchen, passing Yamada and Daiki—the two of them seemingly trying to fix each other up simultaneously—to where Hikaru was bent over Yabu’s abdomen.

His whole body was quivering like Keito’s was and he was crying quietly, face all scrunched up with the tears, one of his eyes swollen and bruised. Yabu’s whole front was a series of deep lacerations, some of them crossing over each other uglier than Keito had expecting. It was focusing, Keito realizing in a start that the wounds reminded him of ones he’d had before—ones that had left him close to death—and a pang of fear ran through him. He went and washed his hands before returning and getting himself a needle, knowing this needed to be taken care of. Hikaru shouldn’t have had to care for Yabu like this alone. Hikaru barely looked at him, focused on stitching Yabu back together with a harsh determination that was just barely keeping him from falling apart.

Hikaru had started at the shoulder and was working his way down, most of Yabu’s torso already stitched up, the only places left his thighs and his face. His face had a huge cut across the left side, cutting across the eyebrow, and Keito realized as he went to try and stitch it up that everything didn’t line up perfectly, and he knew it would be an ugly scar like the one Keito himself had on his shoulder. He cringed, but he knew that if he didn’t stitch it up it would only heal uglier, and so he got to work trying to steady his hands as he pulled his needle through the split skin on Yabu’s face. Yabu didn’t move—out cold the entire time—and while Keito knew it was better that way, knew that consciousness would only serve to aggravate Yabu’s injuries right then, it was just _wrong_ to see him lay still while Keito’s needle dipped into his skin.

It was only once Yabu was all stitched up and bandaged that Hikaru turned his attention to Keito, the leader still in his bloody suit. He looked over at Keito and Keito pressed into him, not kissing or even hugging, just touching, leaning their bodies together, and the comfort of that simple action was awe inducing. Hikaru’s scent washed over him and instilled something _right_ inside of him, assuring him that despite everything they were going through in that moment, he was where he was supposed to be. It was amazing, Keito caught off guard by the calm he felt inside of himself. He let out a breath, pressing his face into Hikaru’s neck, his eyes fluttering shut, and he murmured just barely above a whisper

“I love you.” Hikaru didn’t say anything, just taking Keito’s hand in his and lacing their fingers together, but the action spoke for him. They stayed like that for a long moment, Keito knowing they weren’t done, but not ready to pull away and go back to the real world. It took real effort to take the step back that drew them apart, and he looked down at Yabu—Hikaru not having let go of his hand. He felt Hikaru’s eyes on him for a few moments longer before they returned to the task at hand and picked Yabu up, taking him up to his room. Except when they went up, they found that Yabu’s room was already occupied.

Takaki and Chinen were inside curled up on Yabu’s big bed, Chinen sobbing all wrapped up in Yabu’s blankets and pressed into Takaki’s side, utterly wrecked. Takaki was barely conscious but he was holding Chinen, a few tears of his own shining on his cheeks. Neither of them seemed to notice that Hikaru and Keito were there, and so they dragged Yabu across the hall to Takaki and Inoo’s room, lying Yabu out in Takaki’s bed instead, Inoo turning his head to watch as they got Yabu up on the mattress. It was good to see Inoo blinking up at them from his little bed, but some of that relief turned to ashes in Keito’s mouth when Inoo asked

“What happened? Where’s Yuya? Yuto said you guys were in another fight. Is everyone okay?” Hikaru closed his eyes, a tear slipping past his eyelids and rolling down his cheek, and Keito could see him trembling, could feel his own body quaking in tandem, fatigued and exhausted. Exhausted by the emotions threatening to choke him, by the blood loss, by the events he was still only half processing, and it was a huge relief to him when Hikaru said

“Takaki is fine, he’s a four...but I...I can’t go into details tonight. Maybe...maybe Daiki? Or—no. I'll—” His voice was cracking, more tears running down his cheeks as he began to fall apart and Inoo nodded, seeming to understand just how overwhelmed Hikaru was, Hikaru immediately falling silent. It was then that the Ariokas appeared in the open doorway, Daiki rushing to Inoo’s side, a warm, relieved smile blooming on his lips. He crouched down by the bed at once, reaching out for Inoo’s hand as Yamada approached at a slower pace, a smaller smile curling his lips. It was then, once Inoo’s attention had been stolen that Keito and Hikaru left.

They went downstairs to find it empty, the kitchen lights left on, Keito’s gun moved from its spot on the floor over to the kitchen table. Hikaru picked it up, handing it over to him. It was then that Keito realized that Hikaru was still grimy, still covered in sweat and blood, only his hands washed clean, to facilitate Yabu’s caretaking. And he took the pistol, stuffing it in his waistband before he said

“Let me fix you.” As it turned out, there wasn’t much fixing to do. Hikaru wasn’t beat up all that bad, only one long cut on his left forearm and some spectacular bruising all along the right side of his body. Still, Keito did what he could before Hikaru pushed him into a chair, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was a little rough, Keito too tired to worry about any finesse, and then Hikaru went over to a cabinet above the oven that no one ever used, opening it and pulling out a bottle of whisky and two glasses. He set the contents of his hands down with a thud, cracking open the bottle as he threw himself into his own chair, splashing some of the alcohol into the glasses.

Keito wrapped a hand around his tumbler, watching it shake as he brought it up to his lips, feeling the burn as it rolled down his throat. Hikaru stared at his for a long moment before taking a small sip, his head bowed as tears rolled down his face, down to the tip of his nose. Keito could feel the tightness in his own chest and throat, could feel the tears burning in his eyes, and he sank into his chair a little, hunching over, and took another swig from his cup as tears blurred his vision. They drank in relative silence, Hikaru refilling their glasses when they got empty.

Somewhere around the third refill there was the sound of feet on the stairs, and Keito looked up to see Chinen coming down, wearing what had to be some of Yabu’s pajamas, the clothes hanging off of him. He wasn’t looking at them—seemed to be almost pointedly ignoring them—and Keito watched blearily as the petite man shuffled over to the couch and threw himself onto it. He just sat there, his back to them, looking over at the body all wrapped up in the corner, and the sight of it all made Keito feel wretched. A sob escaped his lips, and he put his face in his hands, trying to keep himself from falling to pieces, his breathing shaky. He could feel Hikaru’s eyes on him, and after a long moment he looked up to find Hikaru’s gaze stony, jaw clenched, his grief glazed over by a palpable rage, and he declared

“I’m going to kill them all.” The words were uttered with a cold finality, no room for second guessing or being reasoned with, and it was frightening. Keito looked at him for a moment, the declaration sounding like a promise, and he thought about the four mutilated bodies tonight that had once been their underling boys. About the little boy they’d found dead on their doorstep on New Year’s Eve. About the list of names on Hikaru’s desk that just kept getting longer. About the corpse of their friend lying in the living room, and Yabu barely clinging to life upstairs, and he found himself nodding. Good.


	21. Chapter 21

Ryutaro’s funeral was bleak, the sky overcast, the temperature unnaturally cold. Practically everyone was there; the whole house—save for Yabu who was still unconscious, and Inoo who could not get out of his bed—as well as his brother, what seemed like all of the underlings, and to Keito’s surprise Kitagawa Group higher ups, including his father. No one of higher status had attended any of the underling funerals, and while Keito’s dad was at Shoon’s, Keito had assumed that wasn’t out of any recognition of Shoon’s position with the Kitagawa Group, and was more to do with their personal relationship. He hadn’t expected the turn out. But when he said something to Yuto the taller man just shrugged, saying

“Taiyo’s was like this.” Yuto had insisted on coming despite his injury, and he was walking with a cane, a sleek black thing that Hikaru had handed over to him that morning when everyone was suiting up. Keito worried that the day would be too much for him, but he seemed to be holding in okay, the cane being leaned on rather heavily. Everyone looked like hell, Shintaro in particular breaking down during the service, his friends all moving to comfort him as he wept loudly from his seat in the front row. Chinen meanwhile remained stoic, his chin held high, lips pursed. The only indication that he was falling apart inside were his eyes, his grief palpable in his gaze. Keito almost got up and walked out a couple of times throughout the course of the day, unable to stand it.

Hikaru was busy with the other Kumi-chos and people of importance that had turned up, and so Keito didn’t see much of him. He did however spend some time with his father, catching him outside after the cremation with a cigarette between his lips, one shiny shoe scuffing the grass. It was the first time they’d seen each other in months, the first time since the war had started, and it was more awkward than Keito had thought it would be. He was different now, already changed in the months they’d spent apart. He could sense it, and it seemed his dad did too, his eyes flicking over Keito, sizing him up as he came close and frowning a little before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

There was a moment where they just stood looking at each other before Kenichi opened his arms up just a hair, the smallest invitation for a hug, and Keito took it, wrapping his arms around his father. It was relieving, the feeling of his father’s arms around him reminiscent of a simpler time, a time when he didn’t have a gun in his waistband and a blade in his pocket. He clung to his father, his dad holding on tight. When the hug broke Kenichi smiled at him, his eyes sad but warm, and he took another drag from his cigarette before he dropped it on the pavement, crushing it under his shoe.

“It doesn’t get easier, burying kids.” His dad said quietly. “Hell, the older I get the younger they all seem.” He glanced over his shoulder, indicating the underlings milling around on the lawn. Keito nodded, feeling tears threatening to crawl up his throat, and he swallowed thickly, running a hand through his long hair, pulling the elastic out and feeling it fall around his face. His father watched him, sighing, and he said “You taking care of yourself?” Keito bit at his lower lip, but he nodded, saying

“I’ve managed to fare pretty well. Kumi-cho taught me how to shoot.” Kenichi nodded, huffing a little and saying gruffly

“Good.” His tone indicated that he wasn’t particularly pleased with the idea of Keito with a gun in his hand, and Keito frowned, reaching around and pulling the Sig Sauer out from his waistband, holding it out to his father to show it to him. His dad cursed lowly, plucking the weapon from Keito’s hand and running his fingers over it, examining it, recognition clear in his gaze. “I should have known he’d give it to you.” He muttered. The way he handled the pistol with an easy familiarity made Keito feel strange. He knew his dad had used plenty of weapons over the years, but he’d never actually seen him with a gun in his hand, and it was unsettling.

After checking the pistol over Kenichi handed it back, eyes dark as he watched Keito conceal it under his suit jacket.

“I’ve been trying to stay informed.” Kenichi said, sighing. “Hikaru’s good about calling me.” He took Keito’s hand in his, examining his bruised knuckles, before glancing up at Keito seriously, and saying lowly “You stay alive, you hear me? No matter what. I refuse to have to put your bones in a pot.” His voice was trembling, and Keito had never seen his father look scared before, not even when his mom left, not when his grandmother died, nothing like he looked in that moment, broken and afraid. He nodded, and his dad nodded back, dropping Keito’s hand to reach for his cigarettes, his fingers trembling a little as he pulled one out, sticking it between his lips and lighting it up, effectively ending the conversation, the two of them standing together in silence.

The funeral was over shortly after that, Keito finding Yuto and helping him hobble over to their limo, ready for the miserable day to be fucking over. The ride home was quiet, everyone either lost in their own thoughts or watching Chinen. Chinen himself was pressed into Takaki’s side, his face red, chest heaving as tears rolled silently down his face, eyes staring blankly at the partition separating them from the driver. Keito reached out for Hikaru instinctually, and Hikaru held his hand for the majority of the ride home, but as soon as they got out of the car he was gone, rushing ahead, leaving Keito behind to help Yuto back in.

Everyone scattered once they’d made it back into the house, retreating to their bedrooms, everyone drained and utterly miserable. Keito felt rather sick, his stomach churning, and every time he blinked he saw Ryutaro’s busted up face in the blackness, his grief hanging off of him like a phantom limb. Yuto was exhausted, and it took them awhile to navigate the stairs, Yuto stripping down to his undershirt and underwear and falling into his bed, asleep before Keito could even get his suit off. Keito was trembling, and he threw on some sweats and ran to the bathroom, dry heaving into the sink for a little while, tears choking him up and running down his cheeks. Fuck.

He ended up in his closet for a little while. He didn’t stay long, the comfort he’d expected to feel in the confined darkness replaced by a nagging feeling that this just wasn’t right, and it was that discomfort, along with an overwhelming empty loneliness that drove him out. Instead he went looking for Hikaru, still upset about how his boyfriend had been ignoring him, confused and concerned by the behavior, afraid that he’d done something wrong. He checked the upstairs first, peering into bedrooms.

The Arioka’s bedroom was locked, and Yabu’s was taken once again by Takaki and Chinen, who seemed to be avoiding the room Chinen had shared with Ryu, an urge Keito understood immensely. He had been avoiding Ryutaro’s room himself ever since the fight, barely even allowing himself to look at the door. He didn’t know when any of them would be ready to go in. It had taken him months to go back to Shoon’s apartment after he’d died. He passed that door without a second thought. Hikaru wouldn’t be in there. It wasn’t until he pushed open the door to Inoo and Takaki’s shared bedroom that he found Hikaru. He was still in his suit, sitting on Takaki’s mattress next to Yabu—who had yet to wake up—and was talking quietly to him, his face all red from crying.

When Keito entered the room his head whipped up, and he blinked back some tears, his lips curving up in a weak attempt at a smile. Keito approached the bed slowly, eyes flicking over to where Inoo was asleep in his own bed as he walked. Hikaru’s voice was soft, wet with tears as he looked back over at Yabu’s bandaged face.

“God, I needed him today. Having to talk with Higashiyama and Nakai and just...he’s usually there, you know? When there’s shitty Kumi-cho stuff, and I—” Keito cut him off by leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting Hikaru’s tears, and after the kiss broke he said

“I...I was there. You don’t have to do it alone, just because—” He stopped talking, knowing that while he was important to Hikaru, he couldn’t fill every role in his life. He’d never replace Yabu, and that was okay. He wasn’t threatened by Hikaru’s relationship with Yabu, but it hurt sometimes when he realized that when Hikaru needed support he didn’t always come to Keito. Hikaru nodded, wiping furiously at his face, and his voice was raw, and he said

“I know, I should have, but Yuto needed you, and I just...I didn’t want to look weak. Not—not in front of your dad and the others.” Keito didn’t know what to say in response to that, and so he just leaned in, pulling Hikaru into a hug, feeling the older man press into him, his arms wrapping around Keito’s neck, and Keito could feel some of the tension draining out of both of their bodies, the two of them melting into each other, releasing tensions they hadn’t even realized they’d been carrying. Hikaru kissed him again, long and slow, and Keito felt better than he had all day.

“C’mon. Yuto’s asleep. What do you want to do?” Keito asked, and Hikaru looked up at him, conflict in his eyes, before he spoke, his voice barely a whisper

“Shoot up.” There was a raw honesty in his voice, a quiet confession, layered in guilt. Keito froze, those words hitting him in the gut harshly, not sure what to do. Hikaru just blinked at him a moment before he said more reassuringly “I won't. I just...can’t help it. The want it’s—it’s never gone away, it’s always there...and…” He was crying a little, getting choked up again. “And when—when shit gets really bad, I-I always...I always feel it. More. Stronger.” He buried his face into Keito’s chest, shoulders shaking as he cried. “Yabuchii would kill me if he knew.” Keito wrapped his arms around Hikaru, pressing a kiss to Hikaru’s forehead, murmuring words of love, and it was then that across the room Inoo stirred, calling out

“Yuya?” They both froze, Keito pulling away from the bed, Hikaru sliding down off of it and standing up, as Keito called out

“It’s just me and the Kumi-cho, Inoo.” Inoo blinked a few times, before rolling over, looking over at them and sighing. It was funny, how even when Inoo was visibly disappointed to see him, something in the novelty of having Inoo able to look at him at all—after nearly a month of nerve wracking unconsciousness—made Keito rather happy. Inoo sighed, and he moved to sit up, the action taking notable effort, his muscles having atrophied while he was in his coma. He leaned over, shoving his hand under his mattress and digging around for a moment before pulling it out, his fingers wrapped around something, and he held his hand out, Keito stepping forward and reaching out.

“Can you give this to him for me? I wanted to wrap it but with with me not being conscious I haven’t really gotten the chance. I...I’d hoped he’d come see me, but he hasn’t been around these past few days and—” Inoo shrugged, obviously more upset about Takaki’s absence than he was trying to let on. “I’m out of time. Just...make sure he gets it.” Keito nodded, opening his hand to find in it a necklace, a silver chain with glass bottle on it, a little scroll of paper all rolled up inside. It was a pretty, delicate thing, and he looked over at Inoo, asking

“Why are you out of time?” Inoo sighed, running a hand over his face, and he said bitterly

“Today is March twenty-sixth. It’s that idiot’s birthday.” Keito nodded, looking down at the little necklace as the events of the day ran through his mind, colored differently by this new piece of information. He felt tears welling up in his eyes again, and he bit at his lip, holding them back and taking a deep sighing breath. Inoo seemed satisfied, flopping back into his pillows, turning away in dismissal of him. Keito shoved the necklace in his sweatpants pocket next to his butterfly knife, and he turned, finding Hikaru already at the door and following his leader out.

They walked downstairs in silence, Keito following Hikaru through the living room and into his bedroom, Hikaru shutting the door and promptly pressing into him, lips on his as he got as close as he could. Keito let his arms run down Hikaru’s and wrap around his waist, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathed Hikaru in, his boyfriend’s hands running through his long hair. They kissed for a while, wrapped around each other, noses brushing and chests bumping, staying as close as they could. They only stopped for Hikaru to change out of his suit and into some sweats of his own, the two of them crawling into Hikaru’s big bed.

Hikaru ended up practically lying on top of Keito, one leg thrown over Keito’s hips, their chests pressed against each other, his head lying on Keito’s shoulder when he wasn’t kissing him. Keito had his arms wrapped around Hikaru’s torso, and he relaxed, melting into the older man. He loved feeling Hikaru’s weight on top of him, Hikaru’s breath on his neck and his heartbeat falling into sync with Keito’s own. It was nothing but pure comfort, Keito feeling safe and loved lying there in Hikaru’s bed, with Hikaru’s body in his arms and Hikaru’s hand running gently down his cheek. It was good. It was the most good he’d felt in days, and it was a relief from the grief and pain to just lay there in an easy silence.

Hikaru shifted, his knee pressing into Keito’s right thigh, the contents of his pocket digging into his flesh for a moment as Hikaru adjusted himself. Keito tightened his grip around Hikaru’s shoulders, his tattooed arm rubbing circles on Hikaru’s back, as the feeling reminded him that he had to get up and give Takaki his present at some point. He caught Hikaru’s gaze, eyes trailing over his boyfriend’s face as he thought. Yuto had told him before that he thought Takaki and Inoo were together, and while at the time he’d brushed Yuto’s ideas off as silly conjecture, he hadn’t forgotten them.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Takaki’s relationship with Inoo. He’d been suspecting that there was something more between them than their acknowledged friends with benefits situation, there were things, small things like how they always ended up next to each other during card games, or how they seemed to keep an extra eye on each other during a fight. They were always talking and giggling, but it hadn’t ever gotten overly familiar, not quite enough to confirm or deny anything. But then with the way Takaki had barely left Inoo’s side after Inoo had fallen into his coma, Keito’d started thinking Yuto had been right.

Takaki had been a wreck, just as distraught as Daiki if not more so, and it was startling just how upset the older man was. He’d barely eaten, barely slept, just sat by Inoo’s bedside keeping vigil, watching him sleep as the days wore on and Inoo’s injuries healed. It would have been almost sweet, if it weren’t so heartbreaking. Keito had expected Takaki to be ecstatic when Inoo finally woke, expected some big declaration of love, perhaps, and Keito was glad for them, glad that these two people who had both been pining for others for so long had found each other, and seemed to be happy. But then the...the fight had happened, and everything changed.

Takaki hadn’t left Chinen’s side since that night. Every waking moment was spent devoted to Chinen, Takaki’s big hand curled around Chinen’s smaller one, his eyes sharp with grief and concern. Keito wasn’t sure if Chinen asked him to stick around or if Takaki had simply took up his post on his own, because there wasn’t any talk about it. Chinen didn’t talk much at all, Takaki always the one talking, murmuring lowly to the younger man, his tone comforting. Chinen looked like a dead man walking, despite everything Takaki did for him, but Keito knew it would be worse if Takaki weren’t there. He knew the pain Chinen was feeling in a harsh, too personal way, and it stung.

Still, it didn’t seem right. Takaki and Inoo used to fall asleep in the same bed more often than not, and now it seemed that Takaki had all but forgotten Inoo since the fight, not asking about him or visiting at all. Inoo couldn’t get out of bed, but he asked after Takaki every time Keito had gone to see him over the past few days, wondering where he was, worried about him. The resigned way he’d sighed when he’d asked Keito to give Takaki his birthday present had made something inside of Keito’s chest break, and he could feel the significance of that request. Inoo was giving up. Just how much of a relationship he was giving up on Keito wasn’t sure, but it was painful to witness. Happiness was hard to comeby, especially now, and it was just such a pity.

It was with that thought in mind that Keito murmured

“Hikaru, can I get up for one second? I’ll be right back, I promise.” His boyfriend raised his head off of Keito’s shoulder, treating him to a worried glance before pressing a long kiss to his lips, and asking

“Are you okay?” Keito nodded, Hikaru rolling off of him as he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and getting to his feet.

“Yeah, I just promised Inoo I’d do this one thing for him and I don’t want to forget.” Hikaru nodded, reaching up with his tattooed arm, pulling Keito in for another kiss, and Keito whined into it, not wanting to leave. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” He said with a sigh, once the kiss broke. Hikaru nodded, and Keito turned away before he could change his mind, climbing the stairs and pushing open the door to Yabu’s bedroom, not bothering to knock, not wanting to wake Takaki and Chinen if they were sleeping. He took a few steps into the room, and froze.

They were in bed, Chinen curled up into a little ball, with Takaki’s arm around his bare shoulders, the rest of his body covered by a thin sheet. The former leader was asleep, his dark hair splayed out on the pillow, looking much more peaceful than he had during any waking hours. Takaki wasn’t asleep, and when Keito walked in he glanced up, gently rolling onto his back and removing his arm from Chinen’s body. He was quiet, and as he sat up Keito saw that he was completely naked, and the implications of that made him feel a little sick. Takaki gestured for Keito to be quiet as he got out of bed, snagging a pair of underwear off of the floor and stepping into them before walking out the door, Keito following him.

Once they were out and the door was shut Takaki turned to Keito, asking quietly

“What’s up? D’you need something?” For a moment Keito froze, a million thoughts racing through his head. All of this seemed bad, all of it seemed absolutely wretched, and he wanted to ask what the fuck Takaki thought he was doing, and _why_. And did he know how his actions were affecting the people around him? Instead he just stared, and Takaki furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side in confusion and suspicion, and Keito realized that really, it was kinda none of his business. At least, not today. They could deal with this at a later time. And so he reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace, offering it to Takaki and saying

“Inoo wanted me to give this to you. He got it for you for your birthday.”

Takaki looked rather like he’d been punched in the gut.


	22. Chapter 22

Over the next few days Keito kept expecting some sort of confrontation from Takaki. He kept expecting the older man to drag him somewhere quiet and explain away everything Keito had seen, or at the very least threaten him that he'd better keep his mouth shut. But Takaki did neither of those things, the only indication that their little exchange in the hall had happened the delicate necklace that he had taken to wearing—not around his neck, but wrapped around his wrist, the tiny glass bottle dangling down just a little. Keito wasn’t sure if the older man had ever thanked Inoo for the gift; whenever he went to visit his housemate Inoo didn’t bring it up, and Keito felt too guilty to say anything.

No one else seemed to know anything about the confusing situation between Takaki, Chinen, and Inoo, everyone focused on healing their own injuries or too wrapped up in their grieving to be very aware of the people around them. Keito could feel a fatigue inside of himself, one that made it hard to feel the need to expend any energy worrying about something that ultimately wouldn’t end up with anyone dead, when so much of their lives had been consumed by death. He was miserable with his grief, absolutely sick of feeling sick of missing Ryutaro, and it hung over the whole house, toxic and distracting.

It was about a week after the funeral when Keito woke up to Hikaru pulling out of his arms. Hikaru had been even more busy than usual, having taken over Yabu’s duties—mostly financial—as the older man had yet to wake. It was noticeably tiring, Keito wishing Hikaru could just take a little more time for himself, and he automatically reached out, grabbing Hikaru’s left hand and holding on, still not truly awake as he said

“Stay.” Hikaru chuckled at that, and the sound of laughter was so unexpected that it was what got Keito to open his eyes, looking up to see Hikaru sitting, glancing down at him, a warm affectionate smile on his face. When Keito’s eyes met his own Hikaru leaned down, pressing his lips to Keito’s, and Keito melted into it, something electric running down his spine and pooling in his tummy. When Hikaru pulled away Keito whined, reaching out with his other hand and bringing Hikaru back, Hikaru practically falling on top of him as he pressed his lips to Keito’s again. It was only after this kiss broke that Hikaru said, his voice soft

“Good morning.” Keito smiled a little, Hikaru’s inexplicable good mood infectious, and he ran a hand through his hair, before reaching up and running that same hand down Hikaru’s right arm, fingers tracing the lines of the older man’s tattoos on its way down. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I wanted to try and let you sleep in.” Hikaru told him. “Go back to sleep.” Hikaru moved to go and get out of bed, and Keito sat up, not wanting Hikaru to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I have an appointment I have to make it to this morning, I need to get ready to go.” Hikaru informed him, his official business tone sneaking into his voice, and Keito felt a little disappointed. With the surprisingly sweet way Hikaru had woken him up he’d rather hoped today would turn out to be a little different. Better than the last week. He’d wanted to spend the morning in bed with Hikaru, with lots of kissing and maybe some sex or something else nice and sweet. Something to take their minds off the war for a few hours.

“How urgent is it?” He found himself asking, and Hikaru’s mouth curved in a bemused grin, his eyebrows raising questioningly at Keito’s query.

“I have to go.” He said, but his voice was a little teasing, and Keito perked up at the tone, and he knew that if he played his cards right he could get Hikaru to stay a little bit longer.

“Do you think you have time for a blowjob?” Keito asked, trying to sound just the right side of flirty. Trying to keep the mood light, and push aside his depression and grief for a few minutes. Hikaru laughed again, a smile spreading across his face, and he turned back around leaning across the mattress to kiss Keito, one hand pressing him gently back so that he was lying propped up against his pillow.

“Sure.” He said, one hand already fiddling with the waistband on Keito’s pajama pants, and Keito tried to explain to him that no, Keito was the one that was offering to _give_ the blowjob, but Hikaru just pressed a kiss to his tummy and shook his head, fingers inside Keito’s pants. It didn’t take long for Keito’s indignance to melt into muffled gasps. After he was done Keito tried to reciprocate but Hikaru insisted that no, he didn’t have time, just pressing a kiss to Keito’s cheek and rushing out the door. Keito watched him go, rather disappointed despite just how relaxed he was after he’d come, his body having melted into the mattress. He’d have to really make it up to Hikaru once the older man finally came home.

He laid around for a good twenty minutes or so before finally deciding that he needed to get up. He took a quick shower and changed, and he was glad that he had when he stepped out of Hikaru’s quarters to hear a knock on the door. The Ariokas were downstairs as well, the two of them freezing in place in the kitchen. Keito’s heart leapt in his throat, and he pulled his gun from his jeans waistband, cocking it and making his way across the living room, his hand gripping the doorknob as a second knock rang through the room. In one fluid motion Keito whisked the door open, heart pounding in his ears, his gun raised up in front of himself, pointed at their visitor.

It was a man in a suit, someone Keito vaguely recognized, and the man froze at the sight of him, eyes wide as he stared down the barrel of Keito’s gun.

“Young Master! I am so sorry, I don’t mean any harm!” The man’s voice was high with fear, and Keito realized he was wearing their group crest on his lapel. He lowered his gun, decocking it and muttering an apology, rather embarrassed for frightening this guy. “I was sent to deliver these for the Oyabun.” The man told him, extending his arms. He had a small box in one hand and a bottle of whisky in another. Keito felt a wash of relief. His father had sent him a present was all. He thanked the man and took the items, the guy scurrying away as Keito shut the door. Yamada and Daiki were right behind him, eyes wide and shoulders tense, and Keito told them

“It’s just a delivery from my dad.” It wasn’t until he opened up the box to find a nice new leather wallet and a card wishing him a happy birthday that he realized why his father was sending him anything. It was his birthday. He was twenty-four. Suddenly Hikaru’s insistence that Keito be the one on the receiving end of the blowjob that morning made a little more sense. The year was flashing by in between all of the bloodshed, life continuing on at a faster pace than he’d realized. He sat in the living room, immediately taking his wallet out of his pocket to switch out the contents into the new one, while the Ariokas cooked breakfast.

They seemed to be particularly enveloped in each other this morning, the two of them murmuring to each other and giggling, hands wandering a little more than Keito felt up for, mostly just reminding him that Hikaru wasn’t here to do that with, and so he snagged plates for Inoo and Yuto and carried his breakfast upstairs to eat with his injured housemates. He found them sitting together in Inoo and Takaki’s shared bedroom, Inoo sitting propped up by some pillows in his bed, blinking blearily as if having just woken up, Yuto on a chair next to him, chattering away, chipper. When Inoo caught sight of Keito he smiled, reaching out for a plate, and Keito passed the food out, sitting down at the foot of Inoo’s bed and listening to Yuto ramble.

He ended up spending the rest of the morning hanging out with Inoo and Yuto, the three of them all sitting around Inoo’s bed, playing card games and a couple of rounds of chess, talking and joking, and placing bets for hours. It was fun, just hanging out, the three of them not often spending time together as a trio. Inoo was looking pretty good, all things considered. He’d been awake for a little over a week, and he was getting out of bed on occasion, still rather weak on his feet but able to walk short distances. He had lost a lot of weight while he’d been unconscious, but he acted like he felt just fine, not allowing anyone to fuss over him except Daiki, who simply could not be deterred.

It was twenty minutes into a poker game, Inoo in the middle of telling a story about something stupid Daiki had said a few days ago, all smiles and giggles when Takaki came in, the older man wearing nothing but a towel slung around his hips, his hair wet from the shower, Inoo’s necklace wrapped around his wrist. Keito tensed up automatically, his eyes darting to Inoo’s face. Inoo didn’t even blink, his eyes barely flicking up to register Takaki, his story not slowing down in the slightest, and Keito didn’t really know what to think. Takaki shuffled over to his dresser, dropping the towel and digging through his drawers for some clean clothes, and there was this tension in the room that Keito couldn’t quite tell if Inoo was aware of at all.

The awkwardness reached new heights when just as Takaki got some pants on Chinen peeked in, stepping fully inside the room when he saw that Takaki was there. Inoo just continued with his story, but Keito really wasn’t listening, distracted by Chinen’s damp hair and the way the clothes he was wearing hung off of his body, much too big for him. Chinen crossed the room, Takaki tugging a shirt down over his stomach just before Chinen reached him, his arms open and waiting for Chinen to fall into. Takaki leaned down, bending his knees to better cradle their tiny housemate, his movements careful as if Chinen was fragile and could break.

It was heart wrenchingly sweet, and Keito bit at his lip nervously, unable to keep from watching Inoo as the two left together. Inoo’s face was unreadable. Ketio didn’t know what to think about the whole situation, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask. Didn’t think he’d get any answers even if he did, so he kept his mouth shut. Despite Inoo’s lack of reaction to being faced with Takaki—someone he maybe was in love with, who had maybe dumped him, or maybe never loved him or maybe none of those things; something that the more Keito thought about it the more it made his head hurt—something in the atmosphere had changed, and Keito was rather relieved when through the open bedroom door he heard someone calling his name.

It was Hikaru standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Keito was happy to see him, a warmth spreading through his chest. Hikaru was just so devastatingly handsome, his eyes on Keito’s face, an energy to him like he was lit up from the inside, something bright and excited. He looked fucking happy. Keito was overcome with a rush of affection, struck with just how long it had been since he’d seen Hikaru looking this full of life, and he raced down the stairs, nearly tripping in his haste, leaning in before Hikaru could stop him and pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

They didn’t really act like they were together in public spaces, Hikaru acutely aware that them getting to stay together hinged on his ability to separate his feelings about Keito from his position as their leader. He had explained to Keito a long time ago that he didn’t think it would be good to act too affectionately when there was the chance of someone else seeing them. Which Keito understood and respected most of the time. It wasn’t all that hard, usually, keeping his hands to himself. But sometimes, times like right then, he couldn’t help it. And so he stepped back, expecting to get a stern look or a small head shake showing Hikaru’s disappointment, but instead Hikaru blushed a little pink, one side of his mouth quirking up as he lost hold of the smile he was trying to fight.

“Today’s my birthday you know.” Keito said, trying to justify himself on reflex. Hikaru nodded, taking his hand.

“I know. I have a present for you.” Keito blinked in surprise, Hikaru twining their fingers together as he said “I’ll show you, c’mon.” He turned, Keito following him as Hikaru led Keito back to his bedroom, Keito trying to think of what the present could possibly be. But then Hikaru pushed Keito down onto his bed, Keito sitting on the edge, Hikaru kissing him as Keito’s hands flew back to prop himself up, and Keito thought he had an idea. Hikaru stepped back, running one hand through Keito’s long hair, murmuring for him to stay there before going to the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them, gradually exposing the hard lines of his stomach and chest. Something inside of Keito’s stomach quivered in anticipation, but he stayed put as Hikaru’s fingers danced over the buttonholes, just watching appreciatively as Hikaru dropped the shirt to the floor and turned around.

Keito gasped, freezing in shock. Hikaru’s back was covered in fresh ink, black lines arching over pink tender skin, traveling across scarred muscle. The tattoo was huge, running from his shoulders down his back, Hikaru pulling his pants down so Keito could see that it went all the way down over his ass, ending just under his buttcheeks. It was just the linework, Keito knowing that in the months to come the piece would be gradually colored, bright and stunning against Hikaru’s warm skin. It was striking, detailed and beautiful, and Keito leaned in, eyes raking over Hikaru’s body.

The main image was one of a tiger, standing fierce and proud, mouth open in a roar. Lotus flowers framed the beast, looking delicate and beautiful next to the powerful image of the large cat. The thick stripes of Hikaru’s arm tattoos wove through everything, integrated flawlessly into the new piece, coming up over his back and continuing into the tiger’s coat to give the tiger it’s stripes, connecting it all together, the heavy black stripes stark against the fine lines of the rest of the tattoo. Keito reached out, wanting to touch but knowing that it would hurt Hikaru, and so he let his fingers hover just above the skin, following the lines. After a long silence Hikaru spoke

“I’d been planning this for a while, and I wanted it to be a surprise. I just...I thought you might like it. You’re being really quiet back there. What do you think?” Keito reached out, taking Hikaru’s left hand in his own and giving it a tight squeeze, struggling to find words for a moment before eventually saying

“Hikaru, it’s amazing.” Hikaru squeezed his hand back, bowing his head but not turning around, letting Keito look for as long as he pleased, until Keito couldn’t stand not kissing him any longer and he tugged him around, reaching out gently and placing a long kiss on Hikaru’s lips, his boyfriend leaning into the kiss, cupping Keito’s face, as Keito felt a swell of emotion wash over him, and when the kiss broke he wished he could throw his arms over Hikaru’s shoulders and hold him. Instead he pressed their foreheads together, Hikaru looking into his eyes for a moment, absolutely gorgeous as he said

“Happy Birthday.” Keito felt he could almost cry with how happy he was in that moment, and he fought back the welling of tears in his eyes, instead telling Hikaru

“I love you.” As soon as the words left his lips Hikaru’s lips were there, tasting them, the kiss fierce, Keito pressing in close, kissing every inch of Hikaru he could, wanting to express just how he was feeling, not trusting his words to do it for him. He trailed the kisses down over Hikaru’s chest and stomach, before falling to his knees, and finally giving that blowjob he’d offered Hikaru that morning, loving watching Hikaru fall apart under his touch. God, he was beautiful. He was perfect, and he was all Keito’s. It was almost too much to bear. It was the biggest miracle to ever happen to him. And Keito loved him so much he could barely stand it.

That night he fell asleep on his back, Hikaru’s naked body draped over his chest so he wouldn’t lay on his tender skin, Hikaru’s face tucked into his neck. Keito ran his hands through Hikaru’s hair, unable to keep the smile off his face. He felt better than he had in a very long time. This had been an amazing day. This was one of the best days of his life, and he wasn’t going to let the backdrop of war ruin it. The next day things were just a little bit better, Keito able to think about Hikaru and smile, despite everything. Keito stuck in a haze of happiness of his own manufacture. He was drowning in gratitude and love for Hikaru, and he knew the feeling wouldn’t last but he clung to it. He clung to it, desperately drawing the feeling out. It worked for six days, until he woke up one morning and Chinen was missing, and reality crashed down on him.


	23. Chapter 23

Keito was woken up to Takaki bursting into the room he shared with Yuto, the older man only in a pair of ratty sweatpants, his hair a mess from having obviously just gotten out of bed, his voice rough with sleep and panic as he said

“Chii?!” Keito blinked, trying to focus, and he sat up in bed, watching as Takaki searched the room, finally able to ask as Takaki peered into their closet.

“What’s happening?”

“I can’t find Chii. I can’t—” Takaki cut himself off, the words turning into an anxious whine, and he turned, dashing out of the room and calling out for their smallest member again, Keito feeling a pit of his own anxiety curl into his stomach as he registered Takaki’s words. He quickly pulled himself out of bed, clambering down the ladder of his bunk to find Yuto also getting up, the two of them sharing worried looks and following Takaki out into the hallway. They heard sharp words and raised voices coming from the Arioka’s bedroom, Takaki emerging from inside after a moment, cursing from inside trailing after him. Takaki let out a few curses of his own, Yuto catching the older man’s eye and asking

“Where have you looked for him?”

“The whole top floor.” Takaki declared, already pushing past them, feet pounding the stairs as he rushed down them. The ruckus Takaki was making quickly woke everyone, a nervous energy coursing through them all as they began tearing the house apart, voices tight with fear. Once Hikaru was woken up they really began to take proper action, groups of them splitting up to search the surrounding territory, everyone still in their pajamas, no one bothering to get fully dressed, some not even bothering with shoes before going out into the streets, the sun just starting to rise.

Keito was terrified, the mystery of it all making everything so much worse. Chinen was simply gone. No note, no signs of a struggle. Everything he owned was still there, and no one had heard anything. He couldn’t help but go to the worst conclusions, his mind racing. But everything he thought of didn’t quite make sense. It was just as the groups that had gone out to search the territory were returning—all empty handed—that Hikaru received a phone call, everyone falling still and silent to listen as he pulled his cell out of his pocket.

“Hello.” A short pause. “What’s this about Juri? I’m rather busy.” A longer pause. Hikaru’s brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched. “What do you mean missing?” Hikaru sighed, one hand coming up to run across his face. Keito felt his stomach drop. “No, he’s not here. We haven’t seen him.” He pursed his lips. “Yes I’m sure, you fucking idiot.” Hikaru sighed. “Put Yugo on the phone. He’s with you isn’t he?” There was a long pause before Hikaru spoke again. “It’s fine, it’s fine. He’s upset. Kouchi, when did Shintaro go missing?” Hikaru nodded as he listened. “Chinen too. Takaki noticed about an hour ago. Look, call me if you find anything. Honestly this might be better. They’re probably together. Yeah.” A pause. “Yeah. Bye.”

“Shintaro’s missing?” Inoo’s voice drew everyone’s attention, the older man standing halfway down the stairs, his hands gripping the railing. Keito hadn’t seen him out of bed in weeks, and he watched tentatively as Inoo went down another step, his legs trembling a little. Hikaru nodded, his face serious, eyes hard with frustration as he spoke.

“Shintaro wasn’t there for breakfast this morning. They’re not sure when he left.”

“Shit! Of course. Fuck.” The exclamation was loud, everyone turning to look at Yamada, the smaller man’s eyes wide with realization, and he declared

“Today is Ryutaro’s birthday. The sixth.” That declaration added a new grief to the rolling sickening fear and anxiety Keito had churning his stomach, and he leaned up against the closest wall, one hand coming up to cover his face a little, as Ryutaro’s busted up face flashed behind his eyelids. Ryutaro’s birthday. Fuck. Around him, his housemates cursed, everyone’s grief flashing sharply across their faces, silence engulfing them, almost suffocating, and in that silence Keito could feel his panic rising. It was Ryutaro’s birthday, and Shintaro and Chinen were missing. Those two things had to be connected, but what did it mean? Keito felt like it could only be bad. He was trembling, holding in tears, his fear so heavy in his chest he felt it crushing him. He couldn’t lose someone else. He couldn’t. He—

Hikaru’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, his tone serious but sure, and Keito latched onto it, the words an anchor.

“This is good. If they’re both gone then they are most definitely together. Neither of them were fucking taken or some other stupid shit. They left. They left on purpose. And they have each other there to keep them safe and to keep them in check. It’s a lot harder to do something stupid when you’re not alone.” He paused, lips pursed, jaw clenched. “Granted, this is the fucking stupidest shit either of them have ever done, but they’re probably fine.” He looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes, the conviction in them heartening. “They’ll most likely be back tonight. So unless any of you have any epiphanies about where they could be, we’re not going to lose our heads. Not until tomorrow, at least.”

Keito nodded, most of them seeming ready to accept Hikaru’s words. All but Takaki. Takaki looked like he was going to be sick, and he shook his head, saying desperately

“Not good enough.” The whole room fell silent, everyone staring at Takaki in shock. Takaki looked up from where he’d been looking blankly at the wall, and he caught Hikaru’s eye, panic and regret carving themselves into his face, and he seemed to register what a huge mistake he’d just made, their leader treating him to a long hard glare. Keito’s heart was back up in his throat, and there was a moment of terrifying tension before Takaki’s gaze dropped, and his voice trembled as he said “I-I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“I understand how you feel. I do. And if I thought that Chinen was in danger in any way I wouldn’t rest until we had him back with us. But I can’t have you running off and tearing up the town when there are no indications that Chinen is hurt. He chose to leave. Give him time to chose to come home.” Hikaru’s gaze was still stern, but his voice got more gentle the longer he spoke, and a tear rolled down Takaki’s cheek, but this time he nodded, swallowing harshly and turning away.

“I’m going to kill him.” Daiki growled, his hand curling into the hem of his husband’s shirt, arm wrapped around Yamada’s waist to press him against Daiki’s side. Yamada smiled a small comforting smile, tucking his nose into the crook of Daiki’s neck, and Daiki sighed, visibly relaxing as Yamada’s arms came up to wrap loosely around his waist. Keito felt exhausted already, the tension of the morning having sucked all energy out of him. The anxiety about Chinen not being there was still undercutting any relief he was feeling at Hikaru’s assurances that everything would probably be okay.

As soon as everyone started dispersing Keito went to Hikaru’s side, leaning over the back of Hikaru’s chair and wrapping his arms around Hikaru’s shoulders, burying his face in Hikaru’s hair. It was comforting, the familiar smell and feel of Hikaru’s body relaxing him, and Hikaru leaned into his embrace for a moment, before he murmured

“Keito, not here.” The rejection stung when Keito was feeling so scared, and he let his arms drop as he felt tears well up in his eyes. He took a deep breath, and when that one didn’t work he took a second, but instead of calming down he could just feel himself spiraling out of control, hot tears running down his cheeks. He bit at his lip, scrunching his face up to try and hide the tears, and he hadn’t realized that Hikaru had stood up until he was on his feet facing Keito, and there was a long moment where Hikaru just looked at him, Keito trying to pull himself together, embarrassed by his weakness, before Hikaru said “C’mon.”

Keito wiped at his eyes, murmuring apologies in a mantra as he followed Hikaru back into his office, Hikaru not speaking, just shutting the door behind them and opening his arms for Keito in an invitation for a hug. Keito grabbed Hikaru and pulled him in, trying to stop crying, to get his breathing under control, and he pressed his face into Hikaru’s shoulder, Hikaru’s arms warm around his waist, his voice soft and soothing in his ear. Luckily it didn’t take too long for him to pull himself together, and as soon as he was able he asked

“How are you doing?” He pulled back just enough to get a look at Hikaru’s face, surprised to find tear tracks running wet down his cheeks, and Hikaru took a deep breath, swallowing and contemplating something for a moment before he said

“Bad. I-I don’t know if I made the right decision.” He paused, his grip tightening on Keito, and Keito pressed himself back in close, chin hooked over Hikaru’s shoulder as Hikaru continued. “I don’t know if Chinen is really going to be okay, but I just need the rest of us to stay here. I need you all where I can see you. Where I know you’re safe. I’m so afraid of Chinen getting hurt, but—but I’m more afraid of sending everyone out, scattered away from me and losing more of you. First Ryutaro, and-and Yabu still hasn’t woken up, and—” His voice was rough in Keito’s ear, and when he spoke again it was as if something inside of him broke.

“I h-have to believe that Chii will be home soon. I have to. I c-couldn’t stand to lose him. To lose anyone, anyone else. And-and maybe that makes me a coward, or a bad leader, but I just c-can’t take the chance of losing any more of you.” Just how upset Hikaru was brought Keito’s barely reigned in emotions right back up, and a few hot tears ran down his own cheeks as he said

“Hey, it’ll be okay. Yabu’s going to wake up, and Chinen will come home, and we’ll get through this. We’ll kill Ichinojo and decimate the Wakaba, and-and—” Hikaru chuckled, Keito pulling away a little to see that the older man was smiling at him, affection gleaming in his wet eyes, and after a moment he pressed a quick, fierce kiss to Keito’s lips, and murmured

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Keito smiled a little at that, and he reached over, wiping Hikaru’s tears away with a delicate finger, Hikaru blinking furiously and taking a deep breath, before declaring “We can’t stay in here. I want to be there when that little piece of shit walks through our fucking door.” Keito nodded, and the two of them dried their eyes and placed a few more kisses on warm skin before going back out, to find the rest of the house all sitting around the kitchen table, Yuto dealing a pack of cards while Takaki and Daiki moved around each other at the stove, cooking breakfast. Hikaru and Keito both moved to take their seats, calling out to be dealt in.

It was nice, spending the morning with the seven of them all together. But despite the panic having been quelled by the realization of what had probably happened, they weren’t by any means relaxed. The whole house had a tension running through it, a sharp bite in the air that tasted of fear. Fear that something awful had happened; fear laced with dread and grief, and Keito felt as though a still tender wound had been split back open, ripped even wider than it had been before, and it was a physical pain in his chest, sharp and biting. And there was a small voice in the back of his mind that just wouldn’t leave, one that kept doubting Hikaru’s decision, one that feared that Chinen and Shintaro had run off to do something drastic. He felt sick.

Most of the day was spent lounging around in the kitchen or living room, every possible game they could play brought out—an unstated but obvious distraction, one Keito appreciated—and lots of money switched hands, Keito himself faring pretty good, while poor Inoo was left near bankrupt before he tapped out. As day turned to night that unacknowledged anxiety mounted, Keito feeling it buzzing around in his abdomen as the talking grew more and more sparse, and the sun sank behind the buildings. There was an unspoken ‘where the fuck is he’ that was near tangible hanging over all of them, and when dinner time came with no sign of Chinen they decided to just stack a bunch of sandwiches on a platter and eat in the living room, where there was a clear view of the front door.

Keito and Yamada made dinner, and when Keito came back into the living room he found Yuto, Hikaru, and Daiki involved in a new poker game, while Takaki and Inoo had curled up together on the couch, neither of them talking, Inoo just sitting still holding Takaki’s hand. It was sweet, and Keito just blinked at the back of their heads for a few moments, not sure what this display of affection meant, before he set his platter of sandwiches down and took his seat between Hikaru and Daiki on the couch. Chinen would be home any minute. He would. He _would._ And they would sit and wait for him.

Card games and sandwiches could only get them so far however, and as the hours dragged on it seemed to grow to be too much for Yamada, who got up and made for the staircase just after midnight, Keito catching a glimpse of tears running down his cheeks as he left. Daiki followed him, calling out to him in that sweet, soothing voice he seemed to have reserved just for Ryosuke. All conversation stopped when the Ariokas left, and it was then that Keito realized that Inoo had fallen asleep, his head tucked in the crook of Takaki’s neck, as Takaki cradled him in his arms. Takaki seemed a little less tense with Inoo there, half on top of him, and it was cute. Or, it would have been, if things weren’t such a mess.

There was a resigned dread settling in Keito’s stomach—a misery he’d already accepted creeping up his throat—and he gave up trying to act like he wasn’t feeling it. He stood and grabbed Yuto by the wrist, pulling his friend up from his seat on the floor and plopping him down in the space Daiki had left. Yuto let out a sharp whine, his movements slow and his face scrunched up in pain as he lifted his swollen, busted leg to rest it on their coffee table, and for a moment Keito feared he’d pushed too much. He should have asked how Yuto was doing, should have seen that he was hurting. But Yuto pressed himself against Keito’s side, and murmured a small thanks, and some of the extra anxiety fell away. Being between Yuto and Hikaru was comforting.

At around one o’clock Takaki muttered a resigned sounding

“Fuck this.” And he stood, the movement rousing Inoo just a little, Takaki picking the other man up bridal style and carrying him up the stairs. They all watched him go, none of them seeming able to speak, and Keito wondered if Takaki would be coming back, or if the tension had become too much for him too. He could feel the panic he’d been repressing all day creeping back up his throat, his fear filling his mind with gruesome images, images that he had no trouble bringing to life after the months of violence and death. He took a deep breath, pressing his thigh into Hikaru’s own, and he tried to clear his head.

Takaki did return, but he didn’t join the cuddling group Keito had formed on the couch, instead taking up his old spot and sitting alone. With Inoo gone he seemed even more tense, his face pale, and for a few moments Keito tried to come up with something to say, but the words just wouldn’t come, silence seeping in. Yuto making everyone coffee at around two in the morning to help them all stay awake, Keito drinking his slowly, wanting to make it last. Hoping that Chinen would be back before the cup was empty. But then three o’clock came, and then four, and then five, and with each passing hour the nauseating fear grew stronger.

Keito was trembling, emotions running high. Part of it was the coffee he knew, and part of it was exhaustion, but most of it was just fear. Yuto looked like he was feeling the same as him, eyes wide with sadness, lips trembling, that pout he always got when he was trying not to cry prominent. Keito offered him his hand and Yuto took it, clinging to him tightly and sniffling a little. Hikaru glanced over at them, notably tense, and Keito leaned into him, their shoulders pressed together, and he tucked his face down for a moment, inhaling and feeling Hikaru’s scent wash over him, calming him a little. A tear rolled down Yuto’s cheek. Takaki looked like he was either going to collapse or kill something, and the futility of it all was almost overwhelming.

But then just as the first rays of sunlight lit up the sky the front door opened and Chinen walked in. He was so small standing there, dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, a jacket Keito had never seen before slung over his shoulders, obviously much too big for him. There were audible curses from everyone, Keito himself just collapsing into the couch, relief hitting him so hard he felt he wouldn’t be able to stand. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he watched as Takaki threw himself off of the couch, clinging to Chinen and scooping him up in his arms. There was a choked sob, the words ‘Thank god’ barely audible as they fell from Takaki’s lips, and Chinen let Takaki hug him, not speaking or making a move to pull away.

It was only once Takaki finally set him back down that Chinen said

“Hey.” Yuto pulled himself away from Keito’s side, taking his turn to hug Chinen, and when Chinen turned to Keito next, and opened his arms out for a hug Keito found himself melting into the younger man’s embrace, so overcome with relief that Chinen wasn’t hurt that he could barely believe that this was happening. That Chinen was really okay. It was during their hug that Hikaru got to his feet, crossing the room to stand behind Keito, and once Keito and Chinen broke apart he asked their former leader quietly

“Are you okay?” Chinen blinked up at Hikaru, seeming to realize in that moment that he might be in trouble for his little disappearing act. He nodded, Hikaru asking “And Shintaro?”

“He’s fine. Home now.” The last of the tension drained from Hikaru’s body, and he suddenly looked just as exhausted as Keito felt.

“Good.” He reached out, putting a hand on Chinen’s shoulder, looking the younger man in the eye, his voice gentle “We couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.” That set Yuto off again, hot tears running down his cheeks, and Chinen swallowed thickly, nodding again. Hikaru opened his arms wide, offering a hug of his own, and Chinen threw himself into them, Hikaru holding him tight, a fat tear rolling down his cheek. It was only once Chinen had pulled away that Hikaru spoke again, wiping at his eyes and regaining his composure as he said

“Everyone needs to go to bed. After we’ve all gotten some rest I want you to come by my office. We need to talk Chinen.” Chinen just nodded. They all turned to go their separate ways, Hikaru freezing and turning back around to say “Let the others know you’re back. They’ll be relieved.”

“Okay.” Chinen said quietly, before turning to lead the way upstairs. Keito stayed for a moment, offering Hikaru his hand, Hikaru grabbing it and tugging, pulling Keito in and wrapping his other hand around the nape of his neck as he pressed his lips to Keito’s, the kiss fierce and breathtaking, Keito able to taste Hikaru’s relief, and he squeezed Hikaru’s hand tight, able to feel himself still trembling. When the kiss broke Keito sighed, the exhaustion coming back full force, and he was surprised to find that when he looked up Hikaru was blushing, looking fully embarrassed, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Yuto standing there waiting for him, his roommate treating them to a huge, shit eating grin.

“Good night.” Hikaru said, his tone professional, and Keito nodded, Yuto’s smile just growing even wider, and as soon as Keito got close he wrapped an arm around Keito’s shoulders, leaning on him heavily as they made their way up the stairs, a few delirious giggles falling from Yuto’s lips, and he said lowly

“Did you see the look on the Kumi-cho’s face?” Yuto could barely contain himself, and maybe it was the relief, or maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was just Yuto’s infectious laugh, but Keito found himself bursting into giggles, almost manic, the two of them a mess as they made their way down the hall, hanging onto each other and laughing. He helped Yuto into bed, and then threw himself into his own, and in an instant he was fast asleep.


	24. Chapter 24

Keito woke up mid afternoon the following day to Yuto staring at him, his friend still in his pajamas, perched on the ladder to Keito’s bunk with his face only about ten centimeters away from Keito’s own. It was startling, and he jolted up, Yuto raising his eyebrows bemusedly at him as he said

“Thank god you're up. I'm so fucking bored.” Keito blinked blearily at him, trying to focus on his friend and calm his pounding heart. “I'm getting stir crazy stuck in this damn house all the time.” Yuto sighed, huffing as he dragged himself down off of the ladder. His leg was still swollen immensely, and he said that while it hurt near constantly, he couldn’t actually feel much with it like he used too. He walked slowly, with a limp, still unable to do much more than putter around the house. He had that cane Hikaru had given him, but he hated having to use it, usually leaving it tucked into a corner of their bedroom. Still, he was lucky to have that leg at all, and dwelling on it for any length of time always put a lump in Keito’s throat.

Despite Yuto’s whining, when Keito got downstairs he came to realize that although it was mid afternoon he wasn’t the last one awake. The only other people downstairs were the Ariokas, and they were sitting at the table with breakfast food, looking like they too had just dragged themselves out of bed. Keito yawned, murmuring morning greetings to them, Yuto shoving at his shoulder, telling him to get something to eat. Keito didn’t need to be told twice, flopping into his seat with a full plate. As he ate Hikaru emerged from his room, telling them that he was going to sit with Yabu, something he had taken to doing in the past two weeks. The reminder of Yabu unconscious lying up in Takaki’s bed made Keito’s stomach flop anxiously, and he tried not to dwell on it.

It was another hour before Chinen and Takaki came down the stairs, Keito having relocated to the couch, Yuto’s legs sprawled across his lap as the taller man told him all about some weird dream he’d had a few nights previous. Chinen had barely finished his first meal of the day when Hikaru padded down the stairs, catching Chinen’s eye and gesturing to his office. They didn’t need to say anything, the two of them walking in together, shutting the door quietly, as everyone watched, a tension in the room. They didn’t emerge for almost three hours, Takaki and Keito eventually working on dinner, while Yuto chatted away from his spot perched on the counter, Yamada and Daiki having gone back upstairs to sit with Inoo.

The smell of food seemed to draw everyone out, Inoo, Yamada, and Daiki coming down the stairs and setting the table, while Hikaru and Chinen emerged from the Kumi-cho’s office just as the rest of them were all sitting down. The change in the atmosphere was instant, everyone’s curiosity about what had been discussed charging through them, Keito himself openly searching his boyfriend’s face. Hikaru looked tired, and his eyes were red, like he’d been crying, but there was a spark of determination there, something hard and angry, and Keito wanted to reach out, to touch him, but he found himself frozen in his seat. Chinen had a similar air about him, an exhausted sort of rage burning under his skin. Hikaru noticed the anticipation in the air immediately, and he simply said

“After we eat.” Keito reached out under the table with his left hand, finding Hikaru’s thigh, and Hikaru rested his own hand on top almost at once, fingers curling around Keito’s palm, hot and strong, and they shared a quick look, Keito anxious about the conversation to come, but already less anxious with Hikaru’s eyes on him, and Hikaru’s hand in his. Dinner was rather awkward, what with the discussion they all knew was coming as soon as it was over, and it was Inoo that broke the tension, going into a vivid description of how Daiki fell off of Inoo’s bed and onto his ass earlier, Daiki protesting throughout the entire retelling, his grumbling half-hearted at best. It was sweet, and it gave them a few minutes of levity, before the meal was finished, and the table was cleared, and everyone fell silent, all eyes on Hikaru once more.

Hikaru’s grip tightened on Keito’s hand, but it was the only indication Keito got of Hikaru’s nervousness, and when he spoke his voice was steady and confident.

“Chinen and I had a long conversation today.” Hikaru started, and a few of them nodded, eyes going to Chinen. He was stony faced, expression blank. “I know there was some speculation as to if he’s going to be punished over his disappearing act. I decided against it. We don’t need to be divided. We don’t need to be punishing each other. Not right now. In a time like this we need to be unified, more than ever before. There’s been enough hurt.” Hikaru let out a heavy breath, his shoulders tense, the weight of the war weighing on him visibly as he spoke. “Now that that’s settled, I want to get into why I really wanted to have this meeting.” He paused, his eyes meeting Chinen’s, and Chinen nodded to him assuredly, the sight strange.

Chinen had never been someone Hikaru had looked to for support before. But Hikaru was still holding onto Keito’s hand under the table, and that was another thing that was different. Hikaru didn’t like displaying their relationship. But right now, he needed it. He needed all of the comfort he could get, and that, combined with the set in his jaw and hardness in his eyes made Keito’s heart break a little. Something about it made Keito ache for Yabu to wake up. They needed him. Hikaru needed him. His eyes settled on the empty chair down at the other end of the table, but they’d barely landed on it before Hikaru was speaking again, and Keito was ripped out of his train of thought, focus pulled to his leader’s words.

“I no longer feel that killing Ichinojo is enough to finish this war. I don’t think it’s that simple any longer. Too many have died for it to be that simple. I don’t think that we could expect it all to end, even if we managed it. And I fucking hate them all. Every single one of them. I want to slaughter the bastards.” Hikaru’s voice was raw, and while he wasn’t speaking loudly, the rest of them were so quiet and still that his voice was clear. “I want to stamp them out and rid the earth of them forever. I want to take their land, take their home, and kill them all for what they’ve done to us. We’ve lost fifteen boys. And had countless injuries, scars and traumas that will never heal completely.

“I want this nightmare to _end._ And if that means a massacre, then...then that’s a price I’m willing to pay. I’m not willing to let this drag out. To let more of us die, for their war. I want this over.” He paused, slumping a little, pursing his lips. “But I’m not going to act unless you all feel like I do. I know I made you all carry guns, and I made you learn to shoot, and I’ve dragged you into fight after fight, but I’m done. I may be your leader, but I won’t make you kill for me.” His grip on Keito’s hand had gone slack, and he was trembling a little. Keito squeezed his hand tight, Hikaru squeezing back. Keito found that he wasn’t really surprised by Hikaru’s declaration. He had been expecting something like this. What did surprise him however, was his own response.

He wanted them all dead. It wasn’t just a desperate scramble at any solution, any answer to get the war to stop—although there was some of that going on. It wasn’t just the grief, the black abyss of despair that he’d managed to pull himself out of only a few years before that he was teetering on the edge of once more. It was a rage, a bloodlust so blindingly strong it terrified him. When Shoon had died he’d wanted something to blame, something to hurt, and now, now he’d lost fifteen people—close friends and kids and people he cared for, people he was supposed to protect—in just three months, and he found that he wanted not only to make it stop, he wanted the Wakaba to _pay_ for the suffering they’d inflicted.

They all seemed to more or less feel the same way he did, and as Daiki and Chinen and Yuto all declared that they were in, Keito found it surprisingly easy to throw his name in too. He was up for it. Up for any plan they came up with. Up for anything that would bring this horror to a close. It became apparent when Yamada asked how they were going to manage a slaughter on the scale Hikaru was proposing that a decision had been reached, and it was simultaneously terrifying and relieving. They were going to do it. Now they just had to figure out how. A weight seemed lifted from everyone, and it was twisted, how good it felt to have decided on mass murder. But as weeks had stacked up it had started to feel like they were trapped in this new hell, and now, good or bad, there was an end. And that was freeing.

The conversation started out with wild ideas being thrown around, some as simple as a long range firefight—which was tossed out as it was considered too ineffective; to as ludicrous as running the Wakaba over with cars—none of them could actually drive. It was a lively discussion, almost comical in how casually brutal it was, and Keito found himself unable to contribute, just sitting there, watching it unfold almost as if it wasn’t happening to him. As if he were an outside observer, a fly on the wall. After a few minutes of this Hikaru regained control of the narrative, and they set a few base rules their plan would have to follow.

The plan needed to keep from putting themselves in life threatening danger as much as possible. Best case scenario they wouldn’t involve the underlings at all. There’d been enough death, no one else in their group needed to die because of this war. It needed to kill mass amounts of Wakaba members, enough that the war would undoubtedly be over after they’d taken action. And lastly, it needed to be quick. No long game plans. This needed to end as soon as possible, so that the Wakaba couldn’t see it coming. Those three things limited the viable options harshly, the ideas being thrown around becoming more and more sparse as the night wore on. Until finally Takaki said

“Fire.” He had that special brand of excitement in his voice only an epiphany could produce, and he declared “We trap them in their base and light it up. Burn them all.”

“Yes.” Yuto said at once, pointing emphatically at Takaki. “Yes!”

“As long as we’re not next to it when it goes up in flames we should be fine. And if they didn’t know we were there they wouldn’t even get a chance to fight back.” Inoo said, thinking through the idea as he spoke. “That really could work.”

“But how do we make sure that they don’t just run out of the building once it starts to go up?” Chinen asked, frowning. The doors lock from the inside.”

“Yeah, and the higher ranking ones have keys to—KEYS!” Yamada slammed his fist down on the table, a long string of curses spewing from his lips, before he said “I’ve got it.” They all turned to him expectantly, and he faltered for a moment, suddenly a bit more reserved. “When...when I was held captive with the Wakaba, I wasn’t allowed to leave my room. But-but they could come and go as they pleased, and I always listened. They had a system, most of the boys that lived there didn’t have keys to the place, but the higher ranking ones did. It was mostly a symbolic thing to get a key, because they didn’t really lock up often. You had to earn one.

“But if we managed to get a key then it would be easy to get copies made, and then we’d just need to lock the doors from the outside and break the keys off in the locks. If we could do that first, they’d be stuck inside.” It was falling into place sickeningly well, and Keito started to get the feeling that this plan might actually work.

“Okay, so what, we just kidnap a bunch of Wakaba until we find one with a key and then steal it from them?” Inoo asked, his skepticism clear in his tone.

“Nah. Kill the fuckers.” Daiki declared, rage bubbling just under the surface, the reminder about what the Wakaba had done to his husband having brought out the old anger.

“No, Daiki.” Keito spoke up, finally finding his voice “We’re not supposed to let on that we’re planning anything. If we start killing them off one by one it’s going to be noticed. Even one is risky.”

“I don’t think we have a choice about killing off one.” Hikaru said, looking thoughtful, and immediately Keito’s thoughts went back to the night he’d caught Hikaru and Yuto torturing and killing Wakaba underlings for information, the reminder of the gruesome scene making his stomach clench as Hikaru continued. “I’ll have the underlings do some information gathering. Strictly from the shadows, no contact, to try and figure out just who it is that has a key. After that we’ll decide just how to go about getting it. If we think we could just pickpocket them, or if we’d have to take them out. Either way, I think this is our best bet.” The whole thing rather felt like it was coming together, but there were some details Keito wasn’t clear about, and he furrowed his brow, thinking hard about it before he said

“How exactly are we going to light the place on fire though? I mean, we can’t just strike a match and hold it to the side of the building.”

“Gasoline?” Yuto offered. “If we pour gasoline around the doors and exterior walls, the place will go up like that—” He snapped his fingers, but even as he did Inoo was shaking his head.

“What’re we gonna do, just siphon gas from parked cars and gas stations around town? It would be too suspicious.”

“Well, gas isn’t the only thing that’s really flammable—”

“Kerosene.” Hikaru said, and everyone turned back to him. “You know, like the kind used for space heaters. It’s easy to buy, cheap, and no one will bat an eye if we all buy a couple of containers spread out over the course of the next few weeks. We’ll stock up, and then when the night comes we’ll be ready.” It was the perfect solution to the last major problem Keito could find in the idea, and he nodded, the table falling silent as they all realized that the whole thing was—at least roughly—worked out. Hikaru leaned back in his chair, and suddenly Keito was struck with how late it was, exhaustion hitting him all at once now that they had a solution to their problem.

“Alright.” Hikaru said, folding his hands on the tabletop in front of him. “Does anyone object to this plan?” His question was met with blank faces and shaking heads, and he nodded. “Good. I want to give us a little bit of time to gather everything we’re going to need to pull this fucking thing off. My goal is to attack before the end of the month. I’m thinking the night of the twenty-sixth. That will give us about two and a half weeks to get the kerosene and the keys we’re going to need, and figure out all of the details. Does that sound reasonable to everyone?”

There were nods circulating the table this time, but Keito barely noticed, stuck on what Hikaru had said. The twenty-sixth. He caught his boyfriend’s eye, as the meeting was declared over, everyone dismissed. The other six men all stood up, making for their beds, as it was once again the early hours of the morning. But Keito stayed put, Hikaru too making no move to get up, seeming to sense that Keito wanted to speak with him. It was only once they were alone that Keito reached out, over the table, taking Hikaru’s hand comfortably as he asked

“The twenty-sixth?” Hikaru ran his thumb over the back of Keito’s hand slowly, nodding.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, like he was thinking, and Keito said

“That’s the day after—”

“The day after our anniversary; I know.” Hikaru’s eyes had been on their twined fingers, but they came up to rest on Keito’s face. “I don’t want to drag this war out but...but there’s no guarantee our plan will work, and before it all goes down I want that day. For us.” His voice was quiet, almost solemn, and there was something heart wrenchingly romantic about it, Keito’s chest aching with the love he felt for Hikaru, and how overwhelmingly grateful he was to have him, and he nodded, feeling himself getting choked up as he said

“Yes. Okay.”


	25. Chapter 25

The next few days settled back into the tense stretch of calm that had come to feel like normalcy ever since Ryutaro’s death. It was almost maddening, all of them trying to trick themselves into being okay, the whole thing some poor imitation of peace. Keito found himself falling into it. During the day he often went walking with Yuto up and down the alley in front of their home, Yuto determined to get better, to be better, to be able to help, to fight. Keito just didn’t want him to fall. He wasn’t sure Yuto would ever be back to how he was before. But honestly, just having Yuto alive was enough, he couldn’t help but feel. Not that he ever said so.

He went out in the evenings like he’d used to, collecting money from guys Inoo and Yabu had loaned to, depositing the stacks of cash on their bedside tables. And then he’d sit down by Yabu’s bed, next to Hikaru—because Hikaru was always sitting with Yabu when he wasn’t working nowadays—and he’d hold his hand. And if Hikaru wanted to talk they would, and if Hikaru didn’t then Keito would just rest his head on Hikaru’s shoulder, and feel his breathing. And sometimes they’d go to bed together, and other times Hikaru would whisper ‘goodnight’, and Keito would know that he wanted to be left alone. It wasn’t peace, and it certainly wasn’t happiness, but it was _something_. Something bearable.

It was almost a week since the plan to destroy the Wakaba had been formed when Yamada caught Keito when he was out in front of the house with Yuto, taking a break from the walking up and down the alley to sit and rest on the concrete steps that led up to their door. The smaller man stood there on the landing, eyes downcast to look at them, and he said

“Keito, the Kumi-cho got a phone call. He wants the two of us to go by the underling housing. They’ve got something for us.” Yuto was visibly frustrated by Yamada’s words, his unspoken dismissal obviously stinging, and he cursed under his breath. Keito felt rather guilty, wishing he could take Yuto’s pain away, wishing he could rewind the last few moments and change the words that had fallen from Yamada’s lips. But he couldn’t, so he stood and nodded, falling into step with Yamada as Yuto watched them walk away with hard eyes. Keito sighed, the tension and anxiety and grief that lived constantly under his skin numbing and fatiguing him, but his eyes caught on Yamada’s shoulders, tense and trembling, and he asked

“How are you?” Yamada shrugged, and silence fell over them, Keito resigning himself to it just as Yamada said

“You have sex right?” The question completely blindsided him, and Keito’s mind raced, wondering why Yamada was asking this, not sure what exactly his answer should be—he wasn’t really a prude, but Hikaru was very private about their relationship—but mostly just stuck on that the question came from Yamada. Yamada, whose past history with sexual behavior was something Keito hated dwelling on, who not once had talked to Keito about anything regarding physical relationships before. The silence must have dragged to a beat too long, because Yamada clarified “With the Kumi-cho. You two...you have sex. Sometimes.” The pushing was actually reassuring. Yamada wanted to have this conversation...whatever this conversation was. Keito nodded.

“Yeah.” Yamada nodded, looking serious, and after a moment he asked, his voice rather quiet

“Can you tell me about it?” Keito tried to fight his increasing incredulity that Yamada was even asking about these things, trying to sound as though this was normal, or at least like he was unphased, when he asked

“What do you want to know?” Yamada looked over at him, eyes meeting Keito’s, and something there must have reassured him, because he said

“I just...I don’t know much about...like...what you can do. Together. I mean—outside of what was done to me. And…” He paused, swallowing, his eyes on the ground. “I want to try something.”

“Oh.” Keito wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He truly had no idea what Daiki and Yamada’s physical relationship was like. Around everyone else they acted like a pretty normal couple, snuggling and kissing but never anything inappropriate, and Keito knew that whatever happened inside their bedroom was their own business, so he’d just assumed it was pretty average, married people behavior. He’d known they were taking things slow, but they’d been married for over a year, and perhaps it was his own ignorance, but he’d assumed they’d done something sexual after their little wedding. But Yamada was visibly trembling, and so Keito just said gently “Okay.”

He ended up telling Yamada about a good deal of the sexual things he and Hikaru had done, from the handjobs to the blowjobs to some positions they liked. He told him who touched what, and why. It made him a little self conscious, and—if he was being honest with himself—a little turned on, to describe all of these things to Yamada, but with the serious questions about what exactly Keito got out of all of these things emotionally it felt like a really important, meaningful conversation, not some cheap talk, or bragging. Still, he tried to focus on his own kinks, and keep Hikaru’s out of it. While he was okay with this conversation, he wasn’t going to tell anyone about Hikaru’s nipple clamps unless he got explicit consent to do so.

Yamada was listening intently, his nervous shaking having faded as the conversation continued, instead replaced by wide eyes, Keito able to see him thinking through everything that was being said to him. Keito’s descriptions of the foreplay seemed to interest him the most, something seeming to click in his mind when he asked why Keito liked to drag the whole sex act thing out for so long, and Keito told him about how he liked to really just spend a lot of time making Hikaru feel good. About how seeing Hikaru happy and feeling good made him feel that way too.

Yamada knew the basics, but he’d obviously been trying to figure out how to take what he’d learned from his abuse and twist it into something good. And when he couldn’t, he’d asked Keito for help. The bravery of that action was flooring, and Keito tried to be delicate, without glossing anything over. Tried to watch Yamada for clues as to how he was feeling throughout their talk, and just...help. Yamada deserved anything he wanted. And if what he wanted was good sex with his husband, Keito was happy to talk to him about it.

He’d do anything for Yamada, he realized, as he started explaining why he liked giving Hikaru blowjobs. He loved Yamada, loved him fiercely, and the realization was almost painful in its ferocity, because of how easily in the coming days Yamada could be ripped from their lives. This wasn’t the first time an epiphany about the fragility of their lives had struck him over the past few months, but each time it hurt.

The conversation was cut short when they rounded the last corner and found themselves facing the underling housing. Their arrival seemingly noticed immediately, as moments after they'd stepped out onto the street boys came from every building, falling into lines on either side of the street, their bows low as they welcomed ‘The Stone Prince’ and ‘The Dragon Tamer’. Yamada turned his gaze to Keito, and it was then that he realized that they were all waiting for him to tell them what to do, and his throat went a little dry at the sudden understanding.

“Relax.” He said, and the boys straightened their spines, a handful of them openly observing Keito and Yamada, while the rest dispersed, returning back inside their homes or mulling around, stealing glances when they thought Keito and Yamada weren’t looking. Keito looked over the kids, hoping to see a couple of familiar faces, maybe a couple of Kaitos, or Matsuda Genta. His attention was drawn however when a voice called out

“Prince!” He turned to see Juri leading a small posse over, the group all underlings Keito recognized. It was Shintaro’s gang, all except Taiga, as well as two others Keito knew by name, but hadn’t spent much time with—Kishi Yuta and Nagase Ren. Keito nodded in acknowledgement to the other boys as they approached, his eyes immediately drawn to Shintaro. He hadn’t seen the young man since his brother’s funeral. Shin looked thinner, like he hadn’t been eating well, and he had dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze was sharp, and his hand was wrapped around Juri’s, the gesture possessive and noticeably grounding. All in all, he seemed to be doing better than Keito had been expecting, and it was relieving. It was a good thing he had such a strong support system here.

“You have news?” Yamada prompted the underlings, once they’d gotten close enough for conversation, and Kouchi nodded, gesturing to one of the buildings, offering

“Perhaps we should do this inside? Jesse and I have our apartment on the second story. It would be nice and private.” Keito nodded, and they followed as Yugo and Jesse led them into one of the buildings and up the stairs, to a door with a sign taped to the front that read _Kouchi and Jesse—enter at your own risk_. It was a cute little apartment, the boys having obviously made it home, mismatched furniture squished into the small space, books strewn about, and a basket of clean laundry ready to be folded sitting on the coffee table, next to a small handgun. Jesse darted about, tidying up quickly as Kouchi offered that they all sit around in the living room, his eyes following his boyfriend’s embarrassed movements with a warm affection.

It was only once the last sock was removed from the loveseat that the meeting truly began, Keito prompting

“The Kumi-cho had requested that you all send teams out to spy on the Wakaba for us. Did you find what we were looking for?”

“Yes we did, Prince.” It was Kishi who spoke, Nagase Ren honestly looking a little nervous, but the boy dug his hand into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a stack of photographs, plopping them down on the newly cleaned coffee table, everyone leaning forward to see. The pictures were taken through a window, Sato Takeru and Miura Haruma sitting together in a little booth in a coffee shop. Hokuto leaned forward, pushing the pictures out, scattering them across the table surface, and in the images the two Wakaba members could be seen holding hands, and kissing. Ren snagged one, lifting it from the pack and passing it to Keito.

“There. His wallet chain.” Yamada leaned in close to get a look, and Keito immediately saw what Ren was talking about. Miura Haruma had a chain attached to his belt loop, and there, dangling from it was one key, on a tiny ring. Keito glanced over to Yamada, asking quietly

“Does that look right?”

“Yeah.” Keito nodded, offering the picture to Yamada before leaning in and scooping the others off of the coffee table, pushing them into a neat stack and tucking them into his pocket.

“Good job.” He said, and small smiles bloomed on the underling boys lips. Keito sighed, chest aching for them, and he thought about what Hikaru had said, about keeping them safe. God, he hoped they could. He got to his feet, Yamada following suit, and he swallowed his anxiety, and told them “No more patrols into Wakaba territory. We got what we needed, stay home, stay out of harm’s way until this war is fucking done.” He made for the door, and was just about to leave when a voice stopped him.

“I want to kill him.” Shintaro was looking over at him, voice rough, like he hadn’t been using it much. Keito felt a lump growing in his throat, fear for this young man suddenly threatening to overcome him, because he knew the grief Shintaro was feeling. He knew just how much pain he was in, and he knew just how dangerous that could be. He shook his head.

“No. Live instead.” He tried to sound stern, and final, and he wasn’t sure that he achieved it, but he didn’t stick around to find out, exiting the apartment with Yamada at his heels. The way back home was mostly silent, a tension buzzing through them, even as they stopped at a hardware store and picked up two containers of kerosene. Keito almost considered restarting the conversation about sex they’d been having before, just to get his mind off of the pictures in his pocket and the impending slaughter they’d just taken one step closer to, but Yamada was quiet, and Keito didn’t want to press his friend into anything. Yamada had been the one to bring sex up before. If he wanted to talk about it he’d do it again. So instead, Keito said nothing.

Yamada took the pictures to Hikaru once they’d gotten home, and Keito took the kerosene to the shrine room, where Takaki and Daiki had already put three other containers, lining them up in a corner, before glancing over to where Shoon’s picture sat, flanked by Ryutaro and Taiyos’. The pain in his chest spiked again at the sight of them, and he sighed, pushing his way out of the room, not looking back as the door closed behind him. He couldn’t help but feel that Shoon wouldn’t have wanted this, this massacre they had planned. But Shoon wasn’t there. He couldn’t fix this. And the worst part was, Keito was sure that if he was still alive, he could have found a way to end it all without more bloodshed. But Keito wasn’t sure he would have taken it.

That night after dinner Hikaru brought out the photographs. There was some surprise at the revelation of Miura Haruma and Sato Takeru’s romantic involvement, and concern about the target. It would be hard to murder Miura Haruma. He’d been fighting in battles against them since before Keito had even joined, and he was a formidable enemy. The Wakaba would notice if he went missing. And this boyfriend situation made everything more risky, Daiki declaring

“If Ryosuke suddenly disappeared, I’d lose it. Besides, if he had been planning on abandoning ship, he’d want his boyfriend to come with him. Takeru would know as soon as he was gone that something had happened to him.”

“There’s no way to make it look like he just up and left on his own. Maybe we should pick a different target.” Inoo’s words were drowned out by Chinen saying harshly

“We’ll just kill them both then.” He turned to Hikaru, eyes sharp. “If we just kill them both it will look like they ran away together, which is much more likely than one of them leaving the other behind. If Daiki disappeared we’d all know something was up, but if Yamada disappeared too, there’s a good chance we’d think that maybe they just wanted to escape the war.”

“No. We wouldn’t.” Inoo said sharply. “Dai-chan and Yamada wouldn’t just leave us like that. We know better.”

“Sure.” Yuto cut in, thoughtful. “But we’ve all known each other for years. Ichinojo has only been back in the territory, back with the Wakaba, for a few months. He doesn’t have such a good understanding of the people he’s fighting with. It is plausible for him to assume that they chose each other over their loyalty to the Wakaba.” Hikaru nodded slowly, sighed, and said

“Yuto and Chinen are right. This is our best shot. We’ll kill them both, next chance we get.” He pursed his lips, his jaw clenching momentarily while he thought. “With two of them we’re going to need more people to subdue them. Especially if we want it to be relatively quiet. They’re both fierce fighters; it’s not going to be easy. I won’t be able to do it alone.”

“I’ll come.” Chinen offered, and Hikaru nodded, eyes going around the table, looking for volunteers.

“I’m in.” Daiki said, Yamada raising his hand and nodding, throwing himself in too.

“I can—” Yuto started, but Hikaru shook his head, treating Yuto to a stern look.

“You’re not ready yet.” Yuto pursed his lips, frustration radiating from him, and Keito found himself saying

“I’ll go.” Yuto’s head whipped up, and Keito found most of the table staring at him, eyes wide with surprise. He looked over at Hikaru, saying quite seriously “I want to be there. I want to make sure you come home okay.”

“Fuck, Keito.” Takaki muttered, Hikaru was looking over at him, cheeks rather flushed, gaze sharp, and Inoo just said

“Kiss him, Kumi-cho. God.” There was a pause, Keito suddenly feeling flustered, because they didn’t kiss in front of the others. It just wasn’t something that was done. But then Hikaru leaned in, lips parting against Keito’s own, his tongue doing that thing that always managed to make Keito’s stomach jump, and Keito whined a little when Hikaru pulled away. He was breathing a little heavy, and Daiki wolf whistled, Keito flushing, glancing over to see that pretty much all of his housemates were smiling shit eating grins, all but Yamada, who had a look of extreme concentration on his face, eyes watching their every move, and Keito had a feeling he knew exactly what that was all about.

“Okay.” Hikaru said, trying to get the conversation back on track, and Keito tried not to think about how pink his boyfriend’s lips were, or how his eyes lingered on Keito’s own lips. Fuck. They were definitely fucking tonight. As soon as this was over. He could feel it in his stomach. “The five of us should be enough. I want this done soon. I’ll talk to Nagase Ren and Kishi Yuta tomorrow, see what else they can tell me, and then we’ll see if we can ambush them. I want to catch them out, alone. Starting tomorrow night we’ll patrol the streets for a few hours, and hopefully they’ll fall into our hands. It’s bound to happen, it’s just timing.” There were a few nods, but Keito wasn’t the only one having a hard time concentrating, and with that they were dismissed, Hikaru catching Keito’s eye and glancing over at his office.


	26. Chapter 26

The second they were alone Hikaru had Keito pressed up against his office door, hands on his chest, fingers fumbling with his shirt as he kissed him, tongue pulling an involuntary moan from Keito’s throat. Hikaru tugged the shirt up over Keito’s head, hands running over Keito’s chest and abdomen, fingers hot as they pressed lines into his skin. Keito curled his fingers into the belt loops on Hikaru’s jeans, yanking him forward and rolling their hips together as one hand slipped past the waistband to cup Hikaru’s ass, his lips trailing along the older man’s jaw, and Hikaru grabbed for him, Keito able to feel that he was already half hard in his jeans as he pressed their hips together.

After a drawn out moment Keito pulled his hand out of Hikaru’s pants, pressing another long kiss to Hikaru’s lips before he grabbed at the hem of Hikaru’s shirt, shoving his hands underneath and running them up his boyfriend’s muscular chest, taking the garment with him as he went. He got it up to Hikaru’s underarms, before Hikaru raised his arms up, letting Keito take it off the rest of the way, tossing it to the floor. He immediately ran his hands over Hikaru’s muscular shoulders and forearms, leaning in and pressing open mouthed kisses down Hikaru’s throat, teeth nipping along his collarbones as Hikaru whimpered.

One of Hikaru’s hands fisted itself in Keito’s long hair, and he brought Keito back up, meeting Keito’s mouth with his own, and he pushed closer, every part of him as close to Keito as he could get, flush against him, Keito’s back hitting the door. Keito wrapped his arms around Hikaru, wanting to get even closer, wanting to feel Hikaru’s heart beat against his own chest, to breathe him in, to taste him on his tongue. Keito lost track of time there pressed up against the door, as they kissed, tongues and hips rolling together, the fierce almost manic energy turning to a more languid passion. There was no rush. Not now that they were finally alone, not now that they had the whole night to touch and kiss.

Keito was already considering the many ways he wanted to make Hikaru feel good, his conversation earlier in the day with Yamada having set his imagination off, and he eventually broke a kiss and glanced over at the door to Hikaru’s bedroom, one hand trailing from where it’d been playing with some of Hikaru’s hair to roll his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, Hikaru immediately letting out a high pitched whine, his neck craning forward to kiss Keito again, and a shiver ran down his spine. Keito let his other hand brush over Hikaru’s ribs, the gentle touch sending another shiver running through his boyfriend’s body, and Hikaru rolled his hips forcefully against Keito’s, biting a bit at Keito’s lower lip, and when they both pulled back to breathe he murmured

“Fuck.” He pressed another quick, searing kiss to Keito’s lips, before backing up, letting his hand run over Keito’s tattooed arm, grabbing his hand and saying “C’mon.” Hikaru’s voice was rough, lower, and the sound of it sent a spike of arousal rushing through Keito, who nearly tripped over his own feet as he followed after Hikaru, only making it as far as the threshold before he reached out, wrapping his arms around Hikaru from behind, burying his nose in Hikaru’s hair and just breathing him in for a long moment before he licked a stripe down Hikaru’s neck, burying his teeth into the juncture where it met shoulder muscle, right where a black stripe of Hikaru’s tattoo lay.

He didn’t bite down hard, just enough for Hikaru to feel it, and he let his hands wander back up to Hikaru’s nipples, loving just how sensitive Hikaru was there, Hikaru arching against him, before growling out affectionately

“The bed is right there.” Keito hummed in acknowledgement, but he didn’t make any move to stop, nosing at Hikaru’s jawline until Hikaru turned his head to press their lips together. “C’mon, I want to get out of these pants. I want to fuck you.” Hikaru breathed, and Keito pressed kisses to his throat as he talked, the suggestion sending something hot into his stomach, and he nodded, pressing closer to Hikaru from behind, and he said

“Yes. First, though, I want to—” He didn’t finish his sentence, choosing instead to tweak one of Hikaru’s nipples, and Hikaru let out another whimper, Keito’s hands trailing across his abdomen, cupping him through his jeans for a quick moment, before Hikaru grabbed his hand again, twirling him around and pushing him so that he fell back onto the bed, Keito letting out an undignified yelp as he plopped backwards, body bouncing on the mattress for a moment, while Hikaru yanked his pants down, stepping out of them before crawling on top of Keito, caging him in with his arms for a moment while he kissed him, Keito whining against his lips.

As soon as he could Keito grabbed Hikaru’s ass, fingers digging in a little, Hikaru’s breath hot on his lips, and Hikaru leaned back in, his tongue doing something fucking amazing in Keito’s mouth while one hand grabbed at Keito’s long hair, tugging just enough to make Keito whine. Keito bucked his hips up against Hikaru’s immediately reminded of the fact that he still had his pants on, and he stopped, letting go of Hikaru to tug at his own clothing, Hikaru chuckling against him, refusing to move, just hovering over Keito, on his hands and knees, while Keito shimmied out of his pants, eventually kicking them aside.

As soon as he was naked Hikaru layed himself down between Keito’s open legs, pressed against him so that their bare bodies were flush from chest to toe, hot skin sliding deliciously against each other. It was erotic, the feeling of Hikaru pressed up against him, nothing in the way, and Keito sighed happily, one hand pushing Hikaru’s hair out of his face, while Hikaru leaned in to kiss him again. Hikaru trailed kisses down every bit of Keito he could reach. He went up over his nose, and then he started down his neck, and he went across Keito’s chest and down one arm, over his hips to the other arm, before Keito practically sat up to kiss him on the forehead, the action making Hikaru smile.

Keito flipped them over, this time pressing Hikaru into the mattress, and instead of kissing him all over Keito kissed all on his chest, pausing only to dig around in the bedside table drawer for Hikaru’s nipple clamps, small things with a chain connecting them. He glanced down at Hikaru’s face, asking quietly

“Do you—?”

“Yes.” Hikaru cut him off, arching his chest up, hands running along his own skin where Keito had been touching him only a moment before. “Please.” Keito leaned back in, pressing kisses to Hikaru’s lips as his fingers got to work. He could feel Hikaru shudder against him as he attached the little clips, his mouth opening involuntarily against Keito’s own, and Keito asked

“Is it okay?”

“Fuck.” Hikaru breathed, eyes meeting Keito’s one hand coming up to cup his cheek, and his eyes flicked down to his own chest for a moment, his voice betraying just how wholly turned on he was. “Yes.” Keito pressed close, fingers rubbing soothing circles on the skin around Hikaru’s nipples while he kissed him, Hikaru grabbing Keito’s ass with both hands and rolling their hips together, Keito pressing back against him, fingers wrapping around the chain that connected the clamps, giving it the smallest of tugs as he rolled his hips against Hikaru’s, and Hikaru moaned, head rolling back, fingers digging into Keito’s shoulders, and god damn, he was stunning like that.

Keito was content to kiss and roll their hips together and slowly take Hikaru apart, loving Hikaru’s reaction’s every time Keito would move against him, but Hikaru wasn’t having it, reaching down and wrapping one hand around Keito’s erection, voice rough and low with arousal as Keito thrust into his palm, the action involuntary

“I said I wanted to fuck you, remember? I still do.” Keito nodded, eyes fluttering shut as Hikaru ran his thumb over the head of his dick, his breath coming in shallow bursts. “How about you lay back and let me take care of you for a while now, Keito?” Hikaru offered, his tone making it sound like he was the one getting the good end of the deal, like Keito would need to be persuaded, and he wasn’t completely wrong. Keito really loved making sure Hikaru had a good time. But he rolled over, off of his boyfriend, and Hikaru smiled, pressing a slow kiss to Keito’s lips before he got up, the chain looping down from his chest as he bent over Keito, the sight of it all making Keito’s heart race.

And then Hikaru ran his tongue all the way up Keito’s dick, and Keito trembled, Hikaru spending a few minutes running his tongue lazily over it all, mouth hot and wet and so, so good. But then he traveled lower, hands pushing Keito’s knees to his chest, before he ran the flat of his tongue over Keito’s entrance, and Keito bit at his lips to hold in the whine in his throat. Hikaru chuckled, the sound low, and Keito grabbed at his own knees for something to hold onto as Hikaru’s tongue got to work, Hikaru peppering his inner thighs with kisses intermittently, his hands warm and solid on Keito’s legs.

It was only once Keito really started to relax into the whole thing that Hikaru dug the lube out of his bedside table drawer, coating his fingers with it, rubbing them together to warm it up before he let one long finger run over Keito’s entrance, the cool air contrasted with his warm skin making Keito shiver. But then Hikaru pushed it in, and he sighed, relaxing his muscles, letting Hikaru in, and Hikaru looked up at him over Keito’s legs, his gaze full of warm affection, and he pressed a kiss to Keito’s knee, before curling his finger, pulling it out just past the knuckle before pressing it back in.

Hikaru took his time, gradually adding one more finger, and then two, deliberately brushing up against Keito’s prostate just often enough to keep Keito from fully relaxing. Keito reached out for him, and Hikaru took his hand, Keito clutching it to his chest, wishing they could kiss when they were like this. He wanted to be able to touch Hikaru, to feel their bodies against each other, but he also didn’t want Hikaru to stop what he was doing, and so he settled for Hikaru’s hand clutched in his own, Hikaru dropping a few kisses to whatever skin was closest as his fingers slid in and out of Keito.

“Please.” Keito finally murmured, propping himself up on one elbow to look Hikaru in the eye. “Please Hikaru. I want you.” Hikaru whined, his fingers suddenly gone as a surged forward to press a kiss to Keito’s lips, Keito tangling his fingers in Hikaru’s hair, his other hand wrapping around Hikaru’s back, pulling him as close as possible, their erections sliding against each other, and for a moment Keito thought that maybe if it meant Hikaru wouldn’t stop kissing him like this, they could just grind up against each other until they got off. But then Hikaru broke the kiss, murmuring

“Okay, okay. Yeah.” He grabbed for the lube, where it had laid tipped over on the sheets, dangerously close to leaking, spreading some over himself, and the sight reminded him that things could be even better, and he let his legs fall open, as Hikaru leaned back in, slowly pushing inside. It felt so good, hot and tight, his body ready after all of Hikaru’s careful menstruations earlier, and it just felt right, Hikaru over him, Hikaru inside of him, and Keito hooked his legs around Hikaru’s hips, reaching up to run a hand across Hikaru’s jawline, cupping his face for a few moments, and he tried to steady himself, to take a few deep breaths, as Hikaru pressed kisses to his chest.

“You okay?” Hikaru asked, and Keito nodded, a smile blooming on his lips at the question, because it was just so amazingly _sweet,_ and he ran his fingers over Hikaru’s lips, Hikaru kissing them as they passed, and Keito assured him

“Yeah.” Hikaru gave a small, experimental roll of his hips, eyes on Keito’s face for a reaction, and the cool metal of the chain from Hikaru’s nipple clamps skimmed his chest, making him shiver, and he reached out, tugging on it just a little, Hikaru cursing, his eyes flying shut, and he thrust harder into Keito, Keito feeling it all through his body, his hands running over every bit of Hikaru he could touch as the thrusts started to build a pace, Hikaru rolling his hips languidly, his tongue making trails across Keito’s chest and as far up his neck as he could get. Keito squeezed against him, eyes fluttering shut for a few moments, just feeling Hikaru.

Eventually one of Hikaru’s hands moved from where he’d been fisting the sheets by Keito’s head to instead curl his fingers around Keito’s dick, running along it in time to his thrusts, and he propped himself on his other elbow, Hikaru’s thrusts becoming faster, more pointed, Hikaru’s breath ghosting over his chest and neck as he finally started to chase orgasm. Keito reached down, lacing his fingers with Hikaru’s around his dick, moving their hands together, and he arched up against him, able to feel when Hikaru grew close, grabbing at the nipple clamps and giving Hikaru a look, making sure this was what he wanted, before he tugged, a moan ripped from Hikaru’s lips, his hips stuttering as he came, his eyes slamming shut.

Keito could feel Hikaru tense up, his hand stilling on Keito’s dick, feel Hikaru coming hot inside of him, and it made him whine and roll his hips, fucking himself on Hikaru’s dick, fucking Hikaru through it, and as Hikaru’s eyes cracked open Keito groaned, so close, so damn close, and Hikaru smiled, eyes on Keito’s face as his hand got back to work, stroking Keito faster, thumb brushing the head of his dick in the way he knew would make Keito’s back arch and his body clench around Hikaru’s cock, still buried inside of him.

Keito’s orgasm crashed over him all at once, tipping him over the edge. His eyes slammed shut, mouth parting, panting breaths falling from his lips as Hikaru murmured praises, voice low and full of affection as he told Keito just how beautiful he was, how sexy he was, how good he felt. When it passed he grabbed for Hikaru, feeling him pull out, a whimper falling from his lips, Hikaru already pulling him close and kissing him. They kept kissing, sweet, slow kisses, and through them he reached for Hikaru’s chest, gingerly removing the nipple clamps with trembling fingers, Hikaru hissing as they were released, his flesh all flushed and swollen, over sensitive. Keito gently stroked the area, encouraging blood flow.

Hikaru collapsed onto the bed next to him, scooping Keito up in his arms and pressing kisses in a line from his forehead to his lips, their chests both still heaving, sweat on their skin. Once the kiss broke Keito nuzzled Hikaru’s jaw, burying his face into it for a moment, body completely limp, and he just breathed in the man he loved in silence. They lay like that for what felt like an age, Keito curled up as close to Hikaru as he could get, Hikaru’s tattooed arm wrapped around his scarred chest. Keito was really settling in, considering falling asleep just like that, happy to be the smaller spoon tonight, when Hikaru said

“Do you think you’re up for another round?” The question tugged at something warm in his chest, and Keito flipped himself around, pressing a kiss to Hikaru’s lips, worrying his boyfriend’s lower lip between his teeth, already feeling himself becoming more alert.

“Yes.” He breathed, hands rubbing up Hikaru’s chest to his shoulders, pressing the older man into the mattress and crawling on top of him, leaning in to kiss him again as he languidly rolled his hips down to meet Hikaru’s. Hikaru smiled into the kiss, and Keito pulled back just to see the grin bloom across Hikaru’s face, Hikaru’s hands running down his back to settle in the little dip right before the swell of Keito’s ass. Keito couldn’t help but smile back, transfixed on Hikaru’s face, and he found the words pulled from him, voice soft

“God, you’re beautiful.”


	27. Chapter 27

That night was spent with Keito and Hikaru completely wrapped up in each other, but the next was spent out with Chinen and the Ariokas wandering the streets, silencers screwed onto the barrels of their handguns, tucked into their waistbands as they searched for any sign of their Wakaba targets. They searched for hours, but Miura Haruma and Sato Takeru were nowhere to be seen. The next night was spent in much the same fashion, wandering the streets until the sun began to threaten to rise, the fruitless nature of their searching leaving Keito exhausted from the stress of hours spent on edge.

They stayed quiet during that time, combing the streets of both their own and some Wakaba territory as best they could without being discovered, and as a result of the silence Keito spent a good deal of time thinking over just what it was they were setting about to do. Murder. They’d killed people before, hell, he’d been there when some of them had ended lives, but somehow this time felt a different. This wasn’t a tussle where someone’s neck accidentally got snapped, and this wasn’t an impersonal hit after warnings went unheeded. This was something more guttural and raw.

This was calculated, cold blooded murder. Chinen’s gaze was nothing but steel and grief, and Keito knew he shouldn’t feel right about it, but he couldn’t find it in himself to protest. Haruma and Takeru had caused them all—him especially—so much pain, for years. And despite that every night that they didn’t catch the Wakaba members was a night spent in anxiety and stress, there was a relief in feeling that maybe if they did catch them then some layer of that stress that was weighing so heavily on them would be lifted. Keito couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t sleep better knowing Miura Haruma and Sato Takeru could never hurt him or the people he loved ever again.

It was the third night that their search finally bore results, Daiki catching sight of the couple early in the night as they were leaving a restaurant that was on the border between their territories. Haruma and Takeru were talking to each other, Keito unable to make out the words from their distance, and as he watched Haruma smiled happily, and took Takeru’s hand. The knot in Keito’s stomach tightened at the sight, and he turned his focus on the task at hand. The five of them dispersed, all of them spreading throughout the block, trying to surround the Wakaba members while remaining unnoticed.

It worked surprisingly well, Haruma and Takeru seemingly too wrapped up in each other to pay close attention to their surroundings, and as they made their way out of town Keito felt his body growing more tense. Then, Hikaru caught his eye from where he was walking on the other side of the street and drew his gun, and Keito felt a fresh wave of fear hit him like a wall of ice, his heart lodged in his throat. But he reached for his Sig Sauer, drawing it as the Wakaba members rounded a corner, Keito running to close in behind them, falling in on Hikaru’s heels, and they turned it to find Daiki and Yamada waiting, guns out, Haruma and Takeru standing still, backs to Keito and Hikaru, their own pistols in their hands.

“Drop them.” Hikaru snapped, his voice causing the other men’s heads to whip around, and while Haruma’s eyes widened in fear, Takeru’s face twisted into a determined rage, and he trained his gun on Hikaru, arm moving fluidly, before he jolted, his whole body crashing forward onto the pavement. Hikaru wasted no time, Haruma barely having a moment to register that his lover had just been killed before Hikaru had his Glock pointed at the man’s forehead, finger squeezing the trigger. He didn’t even get a chance to yell, blood running down his scared face. He was dead before his body hit the ground. The whole thing was over in under a minute.

“Is everybody okay?” Hikaru asked, lowering his weapon and treating Keito to a long look, his eyes filled with concern. Keito couldn’t get any words out, his stomach churning, but he nodded, able to feel his body trembling. It had been only a few moments. Only a few seconds of intense violence, and he felt like it should have taken longer. Like he needed more time to process what they’d managed to do. Still, his nod seemed to have been satisfying enough, as Hikaru nodded back, glancing over to where Daiki and Yamada were still standing, their guns raised. They both nodded as well, and Hikaru turned to look behind him, Keito turning as well, to see Chinen standing there, his lips pursed, and the small man nodded too, asking

“He’s dead, right?” Hikaru glanced down at Sato Takeru’s corpse, saying

“Yeah. Thanks.” It was in that moment that Keito realized that it had been Chinen, not Hikaru, that had shot Takeru. That knowledge put a lump in his throat. Something about it made him sad—not because he had wanted more blood to be on Hikaru’s hands, but because he was relatively sure that murder was a line Chinen hadn’t crossed. A piece of his innocence that had remained intact, despite everything. And in a blink it was gone forever.

“The key.” Yamada said, putting his pistol away and moving to Miura Haruma’s body, grabbing it by the shoulder and tugging the dead man onto it’s back, reaching for the chain on his pants. It was there, looped on a ring just as it had been in the photo, and he began working it off, as Hikaru said

“Chinen, I need you on lookout. Daiki, once Yamada has this key off I want the two of you to take it back home. Keito and I will take care of the rest.” There were nods all around, Chinen taking his gun back out of his waistband and walking to the far end of the block, peering around the corner. Keito let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, moving to Hikaru’s side and taking his hand, holding on tight as he asked lowly

“Are you okay?” Hikaru glanced at him, some of the sharp assertion in his face fading, and he nodded, tucking his Glock into his waistband at the small of his back and giving Keito’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m fine, Keito.” He turned his gaze on the two dead men at his feet, and asked “Are you up for the rest of this?” Keito looked down at the bodies too, and he nodded. They couldn’t just leave them here. If the Wakaba found them, it would lead to more murder, more dead kids, more dead friends. The thought of that was enough to steal him for what was to come. Hikaru let go of his hand, instead gesturing to the corpses. “It won’t take long to get them back to our territory. The dock is too far from here, but I know of an abandoned building, small and out of the way that’s just far enough inside our territory that no one will come looking.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Keito agreed, realizing that Hikaru was trying to be kind, to let him know that it was almost over, and he bent down, grabbing Sato Takeru’s lifeless body and closing the eyes, unable to look at them. Daiki bent down too, taking the Wakaba members guns from the pavement, just as Yamada stood back up, the key they needed clutched in his hand. He and Daiki said quick farewells, and rushed off into the night, headed toward home, while Keito slung Sato Takeru over his shoulder, the dead weight and making him stumble for a moment, the harsh smell of blood overwhelming.

Chinen ran back over to them as Hikaru picked up the other corpse, and the three of them plodded along, moving as fast as they could, considering. They were all on edge, Keito feeling very exposed, almost petrified with the fear that someone—anyone—would discover them. But katagi never came to this area, and they passed through the night unnoticed, Hikaru taking them to the spot he’d mentioned, Keito not paying attention to where it was they were going, his attention on the slick hot blood sliding down his arms, and the way Chinen’s handgun glinted in the moonlight, and the thud of his own heart in his chest.

He felt like he was on autopilot, not making any conscious decisions as they shoved the bodies in a closet of an old empty warehouse, just watching as his own body moved, following Hikaru and Chinen’s lead. He took one last look at Sato Takeru’s crumpled form, so much smaller in death. That was the man that had nearly cost him his life. The man who was responsible for the deep scars on his chest, on his right shoulder, for the one that ran along his throat. Somehow it didn’t seem plausible that he was truly dead, Keito so used to him being a torment that he didn’t think he’d be shocked if in their next fight Takeru was there, blade out, eyes glinting with rage.

Hikaru took his hand, breaking his train of thought, and he looked away, turning and leaving the building, not looking back. He smelled like death, he realized, once they were on their way home, and that made his stomach turn over. When they got home they opened the door to find Takaki and Yuto standing there, Takaki scooping Chinen up in his arms, Chinen collapsing into him, all of the strength and energy suddenly gone, while Yuto grabbed Keito, pulling him into a hug, despite Keito trying to warn him about the blood. Yuto held on tight, and Keito was reminded of the first time Yuto had killed since Keito had joined the kumi, of the way he’d waited for his friend, and hugged him once he’d returned.

He hugged Yuto back, feeling better than he had all night. Hikaru said something about a shower, before retreating to his living spaces, and Keito found himself being dragged up the stairs by Yuto, his friend pushing him into his own shower, before helping him into some pajamas. Keito was exhausted; the emotional toll, along with the physical strain of carrying so much weight for so long had taken everything out of him, and he let Yuto take care of him, the feeling of being fussed over nice. After all of that he expected Yuto to shove him in the direction of his bunk bed, but he didn’t, instead making Keito come down the stairs, and knocking on Hikaru’s office door.

It took a few moments for Hikaru’s voice to call out, saying almost reluctantly

“Come in.” Yuto opened the door, and they were met with the image of Hikaru sitting at his desk in his pajamas, his hair still wet, a cup of tea in his hand. When he saw Keito he set the tea down, Yuto simply saying

“Delivery.” Keito gave his friend a hug, feeling very grateful for everything Yuto had done for him tonight, and Yuto hugged him back, a low chuckle falling from his lips, and he said “Now go cuddle him until you both feel back to yourselves, okay, Keito?” Keito nodded against Yuto’s shoulder, stepping back to let his friend go, Yuto yawning widely and treating them to a small wave, before leaving. Hikaru looked over at him, and Keito could see the small grief in his eyes that was always there after a kill, and he offered

“Want to curl up in bed and look at Shoon’s photo album?” At that Hikaru’s shoulders fell, some of the tension rolling out of him, and he treated Keito to the tiniest of smiles.

“Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” Keito watched him as he passed, retrieving the book from where it now lived on their coffee table, before returning to the office, taking Keito’s hand and leading him to his bedroom, and as they crawled into bed, rearranging the pillows to support their backs, Hikaru’s chest resting half on Keito’s own, Keito said, a reminder, just in case Hikaru needed it

“I love you.” Hikaru stilled, and Keito wrapped his arms around his waist, not really able to find any more words, and after a long pause Hikaru opened up the photo album, and said

“This picture was taken the night I met Yabu.” Keito nodded, resting his chin on Hikaru’s shoulder so he could get a good look at the photograph and settling in as Hikaru began to tell the tale, the familiar stories soothing both of them as Hikaru spoke, relaxing them until they both finally fell asleep.

The next morning was tense, everyone waiting, expecting the Wakaba to have found out what they’d done somehow. The air was thick with fear, the whole house quieter than usual, as though they were collectively holding their breath. But the day passed uneventfully, and then the next one did as well, and then the one after that, and they all started to feel that perhaps they’d managed to get away with it. They continued to work toward their plan to end the war, most dinners followed up with some strategic planning, discussions of who would do what job and where everything was, as well as how many kerosene cases they had becoming as regular as the dinners themselves.

It was starting to become numbingly normal, the violence and discussions of mass murder, and Keito found that twist he used to get in his gut was bothering him less and less. Things were going well, Takaki had taken the key they’d stolen out to get copies made, and the kerosene was piling up in the shrine room. They had a week, and then five days, and then four, before it would all end, and it was nerve wracking, but it was still off in the future, and as long as he didn’t dwell on the whole thing too much he found that it didn’t bother him with any more fervor than the fact that Yabu still hadn’t woken up. Or that Yuto’s recovery seemed to be plateauing. It was just an added level to the constant buzz of anxiety and depression he’d been living with since the war began.

In an attempt to keep his mind off of the impending slaughter, Keito turned his thoughts to his anniversary with Hikaru. They had been together for almost two years already, and he wanted the day to be really special. Hikaru had been through so much, and he deserved to be happy, to have at least one day where he didn’t have any responsibilities. One day where he could forget about all of the tragedy and the cruelty and just relax, and feel loved. The problem was, he wasn’t sure how to go about doing that, and so the topic became regular conversation between himself and Yuto, whenever they were alone.

Yuto was enthusiastic about the whole thing, excited to be a part of it all, and the boisterous cadence his voice gained in their conversations put a smile on Keito’s face. It was good to see Yuto in high spirits. It was two days before their anniversary when one evening, as Keito and Hikaru were sitting on the couch together after their post dinner war council, that Hikaru brought it up himself. He looked tired, and he was slumped into the couch a little, his voice slow, words chosen carefully.

“Keito, did you have anything specific you wanted to do for our anniversary?” Keito looked over at him, the tone making him concerned, and he shrugged. The action didn’t do anything to calm Hikaru’s nerves, it seemed, and when he spoke again Keito could tell he was stressed. “I have been thinking about it, and I don’t want any surprises. I don’t want anything...anything big. I...I mean...I just want to spend time with you.” He paused, seeming almost nervous, and Keito nodded, confessing

“I have been trying to plan for it. I had a few ideas. I’m not married to any of them though, so if you don’t like them it’s no big deal.” Hikaru glanced over at him, eyes shining with curiosity, and Keito took that as a sign to continue. “Most of them were too elaborate, but I did get you a present—just something small though—and I thought that maybe we could spend most of the day holed up in your room. Not all of it though, because there’s a nice restaurant my dad took me to that I want to show you, and I thought maybe we could go there for dinner, like a proper date.” He paused, trying to read Hikaru’s face, but his boyfriend just stared at him for a long moment, and Keito opened his mouth to tell Hikaru to forget about it all when Hikaru said

“Keito, that sounds wonderful.”

“Are you sure it’s not...too much? Or too little? I didn’t want this to be another chore for you to plan, and with everything going on with the war I just...I wanted you to have some time to just...feel special.” As the words left his lips Keito could feel the blush rising on his cheeks, and he found himself fiddling with his butterfly knife in his pocket, his fingers running over the engraving there as he spoke, the familiar weight of it in his hand calming him. But Hikaru broke out into a beautiful smile, and he cocked his head to the side to look at Keito properly, saying

“I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind. Too good for me.” The praise just made Keito’s blush deepen, and he shook his head, because Hikaru deserved more than that, he deserved everything. “I can’t wait.” Hikaru assured him, scooting closer so that their shoulders brushed, and Keito smiled, a little bloom of excitement and happiness lighting in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in what seemed to him a long time. A lifetime ago, before this war started. It warmed him up from the inside, and it took him a few moments to realize precisely what it was that he was feeling. Anticipation, and happiness.


	28. Chapter 28

The next day before dinner Keito went to pick up his anniversary gift for Hikaru, Inoo trailing along with him, as no one went out alone anymore. Not that Inoo would really have been much use in a fight. The older man was mostly trying to rebuild his muscle mass, long bouts of physical activity leaving him immensely tired ever since he’d woken from his coma. Still, he seemed to enjoy being out of the house, and he cooed teasingly over the present Keito had chosen—a golden wristwatch, which he’d had engraved. He’d gotten the idea from the knife Hikaru had given him for his birthday a few years prior, and he’d had the jeweler emblazon the back of the face with the words _‘All my time is yours’_.

They talked casually as they made their way home, Inoo a little slow, Keito having to consciously match his pace to make sure Inoo didn’t drag behind. It was nice, peaceful, the spring dusk lit up in red as the sun passed behind the buildings, and Keito tried not to think about how it looked like blood and instead focus on the anniversary. It was a good thing. After these past few months of violence and terror he deserved something good. They all did. He sighed, and Inoo treated him to a knowing glance, reaching out and clapping Keito on the shoulder, grief in his eyes.

It wasn’t until they were nearly home that there was a shout, the sound of someone yelling from off in the distance, and Keito felt a nervous sinking in his stomach, his body tensing up, his hand running over the bulge at his hip where the Sig Sauer was tucked into the band of his pants. Inoo had fallen a little behind, but he too seemed to sense that something was wrong, his eyes blown wide with fear. It was an inexplicable gut feeling that something was wrong, but then he turned the last corner to see the door to their home swung wide on its hinges, more shouts echoing out into the street, and his fears were confirmed.

Inoo cursed sharply, and fumbled for his gun, and Keito glanced over at him, a cold stone of panic sinking in his chest. Inoo wasn’t prepared for this. He simply wouldn’t be able to win this fight. Scenarios flashed through Keito’s mind, most of them ending with Inoo’s dead body sprawled across their living room floor, and he spun around, shoving the watch box into the older man’s hands and saying

“You turn around.” Inoo stared at him incredulously, rage visibly rising up in him.

“What?! Fuck you. No.” The stark anger was startling, but Keito didn’t have time to process it, or to care about Inoo’s feelings. He could only process his own fear.

“You can’t die too. You’re not ready and you can’t die. You just—just walk away, and keep the watch safe, and—”

“I’m not going to fucking run away, and leave the kumi to fight without me! What kind of person do you think I am?!” Inoo growled.

“Fuck.” Keito hissed out, tears already welling up in his eyes, and he didn’t have _time_ for this argument, not right now, not when there was a big crashing noise coming from inside their house, one of the Wakaba running out, his face covered in blood. So Keito gave up, and instead he grabbed his knife from his pocket, flicked it open, and ran down the rest of the alley, toward their home. He didn’t look back to see if Inoo was behind him, leaping up the stairs and crashing full force into Yanagishita Tomo, the Wakaba member stumbling backward, as Keito fell to his knees with a thud.

There was more cursing, and Keito grabbed at Tomo’s legs, pulling him down onto the floor and crawling on top of him, fist connecting with the older man’s face a few times before he got to his feet, looking around the house. It looked like the fight was nearly over, only a handful of Wakaba members left, with almost everyone still on their feet, Keito’s eyes scanning the room, counting heads. Hikaru was in the kitchen, and he had two unconscious Wakaba at his feet, and a third guy in a headlock. Yamada and Daiki were back to back behind the couch, which was tipped on its side, and while Daiki was covered in blood, he was moving fast, Yamada’s sword out. Takaki meanwhile was standing in front of a bloody Yuto, who was crumpled on the floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes just barely open, Chinen crouched down next to him, hands running carefully over his face.

Keito moved to help the Ariokas; as that seemed to be where most of the enemies were, but he only got in a couple of punches before the last of the Wakaba were scrambling for the door, and they were left alone. Keito’s heart was still pounding, adrenaline pulsing through him, fear fueling terrible questions in his mind.

“Yuto?” Hikaru asked, blood running down one side of his face, his bare chest heaving, and it was Inoo who answered, talking through a bloodied lip that suggested that he hadn’t taken Keito’s request to sit this one out, as he wrapped an arm around Yuto’s waist, and lugged him up, heading toward the kitchen table

“He’s a four. He’ll be fine. He just took a few hits, and he might need some stitches for one of these cuts.”

“I’m okay.” Yuto declared, voice rough, and it was almost comical, because he certainly didn’t _look_ okay. But Hikaru nodded, eyes running over the rest of them, and he said sternly, voice full of concern

“Numbers for the rest of you?”

“Two.” Daiki said, wiping blood from his mouth, and next to him his husband nodded, saying

“Two.” Takaki was also declared a two, with Inoo, Chinen, and Keito only considering their injuries at a one, Keito having received one kick to the ribs that might bruise, his bloody knuckles the only place he had broken the skin. Hikaru visibly relaxed once he’d heard that they were all more or less okay, and they got to work patching each other up. Keito ended up handing out wet washcloths to everyone, while Inoo and Hikaru focused their attention to Yuto. Takaki and Daiki upended the couch so that it was back on its feet, and it was then that Chinen voiced the question that was on everyone’s minds

“Do you think they knew?” They all fell silent, Keito feeling rather nauseous at the thought, but Hikaru shook his head.

“I think if they knew we’d killed Haruma and Takeru they would have brought a bigger force. Ichinojo wasn’t even with them tonight. And only two of them had guns.” He paused, sighing, looking drained and weary. “I think if they had figured it out, at least one of us would be dead.” He paused, setting his jaw. “They don’t know our plan. They didn’t find the kerosene, they didn’t find the keys. We got out of this fight extremely lucky. Tonight’s fight isn’t going to change anything. We’re prepared, and in forty-eight hours we’re going to hit them hard, and send them up in flames.”

They finished the clean up and got Yuto to bed, Keito feeling a little bit better, Hikaru’s words convincing him that he was right. The Wakaba didn’t know. After everything was taken care of they tried to resume dinner, but they all ended up simply sitting around the table eating leftovers, everyone exhausted after the adrenaline wore off, no one wanting to cook. They all went to bed early too, Inoo treating Keito to a glare before tossing him the watch box and retreating to his bedroom. Keito cringed, and yelled after him, the words said to Inoo’s back

“I’m sorry!” Inoo didn’t stop, or turn to look at him, and Keito sighed, looking down at the box in his hands, as Hikaru walked over to him, treating him to a look of confusion. Keito shrugged. “I said something to him I shouldn’t have. I’ll fix it.” Hikaru nodded.

“Is it bad?” He asked, and Keito shrugged.

“Nothing he won’t forgive me for...I mean...it was stupid, but I think I can fix it.”

“Okay.” Hikaru sighed, and Keito asked

“Want to go to bed?”

“I want to check on Yabu, but how about you go get ready and I’ll be in soon, okay?” Hikaru offered. Keito nodded, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Hikaru’s cheek. A small blush dusted Hikaru’s skin, and the sight of it made him happy.

“Okay. But I want to be the big spoon tonight.” He murmured, trying at teasing, and Hikaru’s lips hitched up in a small smile, and he said

“Fine.” That night Keito barely managed to keep his eyes open long enough for Hikaru to crawl into bed and into his arms, and he slept like a rock, only torn from sleep when Hikaru pulled out of his arms to sit up, breathing heavy, body trembling. It was jarring, and Keito sat up with him, his bruised ribs aching at the movement, and he said, his voice rough with sleep

“Hey, what is it?” Hikaru didn’t respond, and Keito pressed himself close, able to feel the way Hikaru was quivering, like he’d woken from a nightmare, and after a long pause the older man finally said

“Am I doing the right thing? I—killing all of those people.” His head hung, hands clutching the sheets, and Keito wasn’t sure what to say. He sat there, hands rubbing slow circles on Hikaru’s skin, and thought for a long time, before he finally said

“If you decide not to do it...that’s okay. But...but if you don’t, then the war doesn’t end. The Wakaba want us pushed out, want our territory, and you don’t have to kill them. But they will kill us.” He paused, biting at his lip for a moment. “They won’t stop just because you do.” Hikaru let out a deep, shuddering breath, and he turned to Keito, nodding, and Keito could tell he’d been crying.

“Thanks. You-you’re right. This is the best plan.” He sighed. “No more of our boys can die because of my weakness.” The words sounded rough and focused, like he’d become reassured in his choice, and Keito leaned in, wiping away his tears and placing a kiss on his lips.

“Try not to think about it tonight. Just think about how in the morning I’m going to kiss you and fuck you until you forget everything but me.” Keito said the words lowly, lips brushing Hikaru’s skin as he spoke, and Hikaru leaned in, pressing a long sweet kiss to his lips, the touch reassuring. He didn’t seem to be trembling any longer. “Want to try and get some more sleep?” Keito asked, holding back a yawn, and Hikaru nodded, pressing another kiss to Keito’s lips and saying

“Yeah, but this time I’m the big spoon.”

Keito woke up in the morning to Hikaru’s hands running along his chest, and he smiled, Hikaru kissing him before he even opened his eyes, his boyfriend pressing in close to him, and Keito hummed contentedly, eyes finally cracking open when the kiss broke, a smile blooming over his lips, and he cooed

“Happy Anniversary.” Hikaru smiled at him, body totally relaxed where it was pressed up against his own, and he murmured the phrase back, Keito leaning in to plant a kiss of his own. They spent most of the day in bed, kissing and cuddling, and sometimes that would escalate to sex, and other times it would devolve into contented silence. And it was nice, it was really lovely, but there was a somber air that kept trying to creep in, and while it used to be that Hikaru could really get him to laugh in bed, this time no one was laughing. They were desperately clinging to this moment of peace and joy they’d deliberately carved out for themselves. Afraid of the night, afraid of it ending.

They didn’t bother with clothes most of the day, instead lying around in their underwear, if anything at all. Keito loved just looking at Hikaru, sitting still and tracing every curve and angle of him, his body all the more beautiful for every scar. Around midday he gave Hikaru the watch, and Hikaru was rather flustered by the gift. He always seemed to get that way about presents on any day that wasn’t Christmas, unused to them for so long that he wasn’t sure what to do. He meanwhile, gave Keito a new guitar, a beautiful thing made of cocobolo wood, the date they got together burned into the neck of it. It was stunning, and they spent the afternoon curled around each other, Hikaru and Keito both taking turns fiddling with it, in between the kissing and the sex.

As evening crept in they got in the shower, the two of them stepping in together, taking turns washing each other’s hair and pressing wet kisses to wet skin. After that Keito retreated to his own bedroom to get ready for their dinner date, Yuto helping him pick out his suit and tie from where he was once again confined to his bed. As soon as he was alone thoughts of the plan to burn the Wakaba out of existence swamped his mind, and Keito had to fight to focus on the dinner he was supposed to be getting ready for.

Keito and Hikaru had only been on proper dates a handful of times, and the prospect made Keito a little nervous. The hard line of his Sig Sauer pressed against the small of his back, as well as the familiar weight of his butterfly knife in his pocket made him feel a little better however, and he looked himself over in the mirror, tucking some of his long hair behind one ear, before stepping out of the room. He’d been about to go downstairs, hoping that perhaps this time he’d managed to somehow be ready before Hikaru was, when he heard Hikaru’s voice coming from Inoo’s bedroom, and he turned from the steps, crossing the hall to peer through the cracked door.

Hikaru was in there alone with Yabu, and he was all dressed up for their date, looking stunning in a navy suit and gold tie, the golden tiger head cufflinks Keito had gotten him one Christmas stark against the dark blue cuffs on his jacket. He was sitting on the bed, holding one of Yabu’s hands in his own, while his other hand brushed Yabu’s hair away from his forehead, so he could see the big red scar that cut through his face. He murmured something lowly, Keito unable to hear, his eyes running along the mark, and it was then that Keito entered the room, pushing the door open to announce his presence.

Hikaru looked up, frozen in place for a moment, and Keito smiled at him, trying to keep his attitude positive, and Hikaru gave him a lingering once over, announcing

“Fuck. You’re so hot.” The blunt nature of that statement made Keito blush, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, saying

“That means a lot, coming from you.” Hikaru raised his eyebrows bemusedly at Keito’s flirty tone, and he played along, asking as he got up and walked over

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Keito said, reaching up to straighten Hikaru’s tie once he was close enough, just for an excuse to touch him. “You’re the sexiest guy I know.” Hikaru’s hands settled on his waist, and Keito stepped in, kissing him for a moment, before asking “Are you ready to go?” Hikaru nodded, his head turning to look back one last time at Yabu, still unconscious on the bed, before he said

“Let’s go.”

Dinner was lovely, the restaurant just large enough that no one really noticed them, or the edges of tattoos peeking from under their collars and their cuffs, and the food was delicious, Keito reminded of just why his father loved the place as soon as his meal arrived. Hikaru did a good job of taking Keito’s mind off of the looming darkness threatening to overwhelm him, keeping conversation going and asking Keito about his dad, about his food, and surprising him by asking the waiter to take their picture at the end of the night, the action startling in how much it reminded Keito of his very first date, on which Shoon had done the same thing.

The memory made his chest ache in sadness, and he found himself begging the universe, pleading with some god that he wasn’t sure he believed in, to let this time be different. To let him still have Hikaru after tomorrow. To let this photograph just be a snapshot of one moment in their lives, together, and not a memento of a time that once was, one of the few things proving that Hikaru had been in his life. Like the photo of Shoon and himself now was. The thought was petrifying, and after the picture was taken he found himself unable to hold his tears back, thick wet drops running silently down his cheeks, and Hikaru’s brow furrowed in concern, and he reached across the table, grabbing Keito’s hand, and he asked

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Keito shook his head, wiping at his eyes, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to pull himself together. All he managed to say was

“I just love you. So much.” Hikaru smiled, giving his hand a squeeze, and he said quietly, affection in his voice

“Hey, it’s okay.” Keito nodded, his eyes scrunching shut in an attempt to get the tears to stop, and Hikaru offered

“Want to go home and drink whiskey in bed, and cuddle until we fall asleep?” Keito nodded, his voice watery as he said

“Okay.”


	29. Chapter 29

Keito woke up slowly, cocooned in warmth, breathing in the earthy smell of whiskey and something soft and floral, and the distinct smell of just Hikaru, a scent that always relaxed him. He and Hikaru had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, after a few bittersweet hours of cuddling and drinking. They were so wrapped around each other that he felt for a moment that they were to be intertwined in that manner for the rest of time. But then Hikaru let out a small noise and shifted, and suddenly they were too seperate people, and Keito found himself clinging, body tensing as he pressed himself closer to Hikaru, aching for the security of sleep, for something to fight the sudden pit of anxiety gaping in his chest.

Without saying anything Hikaru squeezed him back, strong arms wrapping around Keito’s torso and pulling them chest to chest, and by the time Keito’s eyes were open he found that Hikaru was looking at him, Keito’s eyes flickering open just as Hikaru leaned in to kiss him, and it was heartbreakingly sweet and solemn, and it made Keito’s chest ache even more. The morning was quiet as they got out of bed and got ready for the day, neither of them speaking much, every small phrase or small word said coming out sounding like _‘I love you’._

It wasn’t just Keito and Hikaru, everyone was quieter than normal, everyone moving carefully around each other, hyper aware of everyone and everything around them. The Ariokas spent most of the morning pressed up against each other as close as they could get, while cleaning their guns and sharpening their blades, legs sprawled across laps, and fingers occasionally brushing over faces and through hair. Yamada wasn’t the only one sticking close to Daiki however, Inoo too was pressed up close, hands running circles over Daiki’s shoulders, eyes wide and wet with an almost tangible fear.

Takaki and Chinen sat at the kitchen table, weaponry laid out on the wooden surface. Chinen looked heart wrenchingly distraught, and Takaki looked like he was barely holding himself together, and every few minutes he’d try and coax Chinen to eat something. Hikaru meanwhile had gone up to sit with Yabu, leaving Keito with Yuto. Yuto was practically vibrating with anxiety, unable to pace, unable to do much of anything. He and Keito sat on the floor of their bedroom, Yuto unable to move much further than that from his bed. Keito worked on trying to clean his gun while Yuto fiddled with the pieces, long fingers flitting from part to part, tapping and twirling and grabbing until Keito would need the one in his hands and he’d move to another.

The hours moved sickeningly slow and startlingly fast at the same time, time dragging, every second painful, before jumping ahead startlingly fast as the sun arched across the sky, and Keito’s stomach twisted itself into painful knots. The anticipation was nauseating, gut wrenchingly messy and a few hot tears of fear and frustration rolled down Keito’s cheeks throughout, though he always managed to wipe them away before they were discovered. It felt like the last night on earth, like they were waiting for their death, and when the sun set Keito found himself properly paralyzed by fear for a moment, and he and Yuto shared a long look, Yuto’s mouth opening a few times before he said

“Go get dressed Keito, c’mon.” Those words were all he needed to switch into autopilot, Keito going to their closet and changing into his black funeral suit with efficiency, the actions second nature, easy to do without any specific thought. He tied his hair up into a ponytail and tucked his weapons away, and he heard his housemates feet on the stairs as they did as he did, changing from their casual clothes into their clothes for killing, before making their way to the kitchen. Yuto led the way, and he followed, going down the stairs to find Takaki and Daiki moving the kerosene from the shrine room, lining up the containers by the front door.

Inoo and Yuto meanwhile began digging around in the pantry, pulling out medical supplies and laying those out on the kitchen counter for easy access, as Chinen and Yamada took seats at the table, bodies visibly tense, weapons resting on the wood in front of them. Keito joined the two of them, taking his usual seat, and he let in a deep breath, trying to focus on all of the things that were like every other fight, and not on all of the things that were different. Trying to think of it as just another fight, and not something bigger, as Hikaru emerged from his office, still fixing the cuffs of his sleeves, eyes down and focused. His presence drew everyone from their tasks, and they all flocked to the table as he entered, everyone sitting but him.

Hikaru stood in front of his chair, reaching into his pocket and drawing out of it a handful of keys, placing them down on the table with a metallic thunk. There were ten keys, just like they’d discussed, and Hikaru separated them into two groups of three and one group of four, before saying

“Let’s go over this one more time.” Everyone nodded, as Takaki, Yamada, and Keito each reached out, grabbing one of the groupings of keys, the sharp edges of the keys teeth catching on Keito’s fingers as he balled them up in his fist, trying to swallow the lump in his throat as he turned to Hikaru. “There are three groups—Keito and Chinen, the Ariokas, and Takaki and myself. Inoo and Yuto are staying at the house to keep watch over Yabu and provide medical backup once we return.” Inoo and Yuto nodded, both looking immensely unhappy with the lots they’d drawn, despite everyone knowing it was truly all they could do. Hikaru turned to Daiki, asking “Did you two decide what your individual jobs would be?”

“I’m breaking the keys in the locks, and spreading the kerosene.” Yamada offered, and his husband nodded, adding

“And I’m watching his back and making sure anyone that gets in his way eats lead.” Hikaru nodded, letting out an anxiety fuelled sigh, and he turned to Keito, eyes not really looking at him before they slid over to Chinen as he asked

“And what did you two decide?”

“I’ll be lookout, and provide backup.” Chinen offered, Keito showing his handful of keys in explanation of his role. Hikaru nodded before moving on to detailing the areas to concentrate the kerosene, and that they were to get in and out with as little detection as possible, everyone returning to their regular meeting place as soon as they’d set their area of the Wakaba compound ablaze. The more they talked the more Keito found himself receding into himself, listening numbly, as though watching the scene over a monitor, and not actually participating. All too quickly they were declared ready to go, and everyone was getting to their feet, chairs scraping on the floor, a noise Keito didn’t usually notice, but was somehow startlingly harsh sounding, snapping him back to his body.

He got to his feet, shoving the keys into his pocket, counting them as they slipped from his fingers—two for the doors they’d been assigned, and a third just in case something went wrong. He found Chinen gravitating toward him, and he stepped closer to his former leader, letting himself settle at Chinen’s side, his eyes flicking to where Hikaru was bending over the line of kerosene containers, reaching out and grabbing one before handing it over to Yamada. Keito hung back, watching, Chinen seeming content to stay in the kitchen with him, neither of them speaking, just taking in the moment, the way everyone looked, the energy in the room, the murmurs of everyone speaking swelling into a substantial noise, one that was familiar and even a little calming.

But soon almost all of the kerosene had been handed out, and Keito found himself getting closer, opening his hands, feeling the heavy jugs of liquid being thrust into them, and he stopped moving, looking up at Hikaru, just standing there. And despite the crowd, despite most of their housemates all standing around them Hikaru leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It sent a rush of warmth coursing through his body, Keito feeling more present, more prepared, for the night to come when they broke apart. No one said anything about the kiss, but a few of the others shot him knowing glances as he moved away, and let Hikaru give Chinen his kerosene.

The only ones that didn’t seem to have noticed were Inoo and Takaki. Inoo was in the kitchen with Yuto, but while Yuto was hovering over the medical supplies, Inoo was blatantly staring at Takaki, the other man staring back, the eye contact unwavering, their expressions painfully restrained, Inoo’s thin body tense, jaw hard, his eyes glistening in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Keito wanted to tell them to just act already, to quit with this game, and just give in and love each other. But he couldn’t find the words, couldn’t be sure in what it was he was witnessing, and he just hoped that at the end of this they’d have time to sit down and talk out whatever it was that was between the two of them.

Hikaru was the last one to get kerosene, and he pulled their front door open before picking his containers up, one in each hand like they all were, before leading the way out into the night. It was dark, the moon nowhere to be seen, the stars all drowned out from the lights of the city down by the river, and one by one they filed out, Yuto calling after them as they made their way down the alley

“We’ll be waiting.” His voice was desperate, the implied _‘don’t die’_ causing a lump to lodge itself in Keito’s throat, and he didn’t look back, instead he just fixed his eyes on Hikaru’s back, his arm brushing against Chinen’s shoulder as they made their way through the dark streets, the only sounds the faint noises of the city in the distance, the sloshing of the kerosene in the plastic jugs they were all carrying, and the sounds of their shoes on the pavement. It was a windy spring night, the breeze blowing his hair around his face and sending a chill down his spine, his whole body shivering as they crossed into Wakaba territory.

It was just when the Wakaba compound came into view that Hikaru stopped, everyone bunching up around him, all of them looking at the structure, barely visible in the darkness with no moon to light it up. Soon it would be lit up more brightly than anything as far as the eye could see. As soon as that thought registered Keito shivered at his own casual morbidity. Not because of the content of his thoughts, but because of how little he felt thinking them. He sighed, and Chinen glanced up at him, his eyes hard and focused, before his attention was drawn by Hikaru glancing around at them all, their leader nodding, determination on his face as he said

“Okay. Good luck.” Keito found himself nodding back, and with that they all broke off into their different duos, all of them going in their own directions, trying to remain quiet as they moved, so as to keep their presence undetected. Chinen moved fast, gliding across the grass with a grace Keito had always admired, his body light as he flitted toward the eastern side of the building, Keito loping after him as best he could. They came to the first door to find one Wakaba underling posted outside of it, and a flash of fear bolted through Keito instantly, but a heartbeat later the boy was dead, Chinen having shot him in the neck and face, the silencer screwed on the end of his pistol having kept the whole thing almost completely silent.

The swiftness of the action was startling, Chinen’s ruthlessness almost unsettling, but then Keito realized that if the boy hadn’t been shot then, he would have burned alive only minutes from that moment, and he suddenly felt that the killing had been a bit of a mercy. Chinen took a step back, eyes scanning the area, and he muttered

“Go, get on with it.” Keito set his canisters of kerosene down by Chinen’s feet, fingers fumbling into his pocket to pull out one of the keys. He stepped over the dead boy’s legs, finding himself having to lean over the corpse awkwardly, the door covered in blood and bits of the dead kid’s flesh and bones. After a moment of trying not to lose his balance Keito shoved the key back into his pocket, grabbed the boy by the ankles, and dragged him about a meter away from the door. The body was still warm, and it trailed a thick stain of blood across the grass, everything smelling of iron as Keito moved back to the door. This time he was able to shove the key in and twist, using all of his strength to force the metal to snap, the teeth of the key embedded in the lock while the flat head remained pressed between his thumb and forefinger.

At the feeling of it snapping against his hand Keito let out a low curse and a sigh of relief. Things were going well. He dropped the head of the key into the grass, walking back to Chinen, who simply nodded at him, and said

“Now the other one. Then we can start on the fire.” Keito nodded, and together they made their way around a corner, to see that the next door also had a guard posted. Thankfully this one seemed just as blissfully unaware as the last one, and with their vantage point around the side of the building Chinen managed to shoot the boy without him even realizing he’d been killed. It was something Keito didn’t think he’d ever get used to, watching people lose their lives. The way a body jolted when a bullet connected with the flesh. They way they all crumpled to the ground, lifeless and limp, heavy in death.

“This is bad.” Chinen muttered, as they emerged from around the corner, his gun still up but his finger off the trigger. “We got lucky, but Daiki and Yamada’s doors are all along one flat wall aren’t they? They’ll have definitely lost the element of surprise. We didn’t plan for lookouts.” Keito hadn’t even considered that until the words left Chinen’s lips, but the former leader was right. A sinking panic began falling through his chest, and they both gained a greater sense of urgency, moving quickly to get the next door shut, to get their whole part done, hoping that somehow the Ariokas would figure out what to do before the Wakaba knew they were there.

The second key was only a little harder to break than the first, and Keito listened with baited breath for some indication that the Wakaba had caught on to their imprisonment. It was starkly quiet, the night dark and still, but for the two of them. Keito rushed back to Chinen’s side, the younger man already having turned back to the grouping of kerosene containers they’d left in the grass, not helping, just keeping watch, his gun raised, as he scanned the building for any sign of movement, eyes wide and focused. Keito could feel the new layer of urgency buzzing over his skin, could see it in the sharpness of Chinen’s movements, and almost as if in response the wind picked up, whipping their hair into their faces, as Keito unscrewed the cap of the first container of kerosene.

He gritted his teeth, trying not to look at the dead boy as the strong smell of the oil hitting him as he splashed it all along the door and exterior wall of the building, running it as high up as he could get it, along the perimeter, trying to cover as much ground as he could. One can for the first door, one can for the second door, the third one to bridge the space between them, and then the last one they used on the dead bodies, as well as leaving a long trail away from the building, a fuse to light from a safe distance. Chinen growled at him to hurry up, a touch of fear in his tone, and it just made Keito more anxious. Everything smelled like oil, and he just hoped he hadn’t gotten any on himself.

They’d been moving fast, but when the last container was empty they both froze, just looking at each other for a long moment, the wind picking up stronger, tugging at their clothes. Then, almost without thought Keito reached into his jacket pocket, digging out the lighter that had been put there, and he flicked it into life with his thumb, the little flame flickering harshly in the gale, but not going out. He reached his hand out, and it was then that there was a pounding on the door, someone on the other side rattling the knob, trying to wrench their way free, and Keito jumped in surprise, a bolt of panic hitting him like lightning.

He stared at the door for a moment, just standing there, meters away in the darkness, the little flame of his lighter dancing in his hand, watching the door shake, numb with fear. But then Chinen pointed up, to the sky, over the section where Keito knew Hikaru and Takaki had been assigned, and he saw a haze, and smoke, and Chinen said

“Keito, NOW!” Keito could feel his panic building, and he saw hands scrambling at a small ventilation window, heard raised voices floating on the wind, and he felt his heart in his throat, smelled the gas and tasted the cool, dry wind, and he let the lighter fall from between his fingers, hitting the grass. It ignited at once, flames licking a fast path across the lawn, the dead body going up in flames just as the building did, the fire traveling faster than the eye could keep up, and in mere moments the whole side of the building was ablaze, the flames reaching up into the night, the heat nearly unbearable. It was amazing, terrifying and awe inspiring all at once, and they both stood there for a moment, just watching, breathing in the smoke and the smell of the burnt grass, stunned.

But then the screaming started, raw and terrifying, harsh wails of terror unlike any Keito had ever heard before, and he watched as one of those hands that had been reaching through the little window was swallowed up by the flames, the outline of it black against the orange glow. He turned away, unable to watch any longer, the noises coming from the base alone more terrifying than violence had been in a long time. He could feel the fear rising up in him, bubbling over, and so he grabbed Chinen by the shoulder, and tugged. That was all it took to remind the smaller man of the next part of the plan, and they broke out into a sprint, hurtling away from the Wakaba base as fast as their legs would carry them, adrenaline coursing through them, hearts pounding, bodies shaking with fear.

They were the first ones at the meeting spot, and even from there they could see the blaze, the flames stories high, the smoke billowing even higher. It was blinding to look at, but they couldn’t stop. Keito checked his watch, counted the minutes. The blaze was mesmerizing, but five minutes went by, six, seven, and the panic he’d barely reigned in was back, because _the others were still missing._ Eight, and even Chinen was starting to look afraid, his own eyes flicking down to Keito’s wrist, checking the time. Nine. They had been told to wait. But no one was back. No one, and the whole building was on fire. Ten. Ten minutes before Keito couldn’t stand the fear, the petrifying fear, and he ran back toward the flames.


	30. Chapter 30

The air was dry and hot, and the closer Keito got to the fire the harder it became to breathe, thick black smoke blanketing the space around the blazing building. He took a deep breath, choking on the harsh smoke, and he yelled out as he ran

“Hikaru! Takaki! Anyone?!”

“Yuya!” Chinen’s voice called out, and Keito turned to see the smaller man right on his heels, and he reached out on instinct, taking Chinen’s hand, not wanting to be separated. Hikaru and Takaki should have been the closest, and they slowed down as they got closer to the building, the heat overwhelming, the smoke making Keito choke and his eyes water, and he struggled to call out for his housemates. But then, backlit by the flames a figure ran toward them, oddly misshapen, and it took Keito a moment to realize just what it was.

It was Daiki, his husband’s limp body slung over his shoulder, the two of them smeared in soot and drenched in blood. Daiki was breathing heavy, a large gash right by one eye, blood all over his neck and hands. He was wheezing from the smoke, his suit torn, and Keito wanted to ask what happened, wanted to ask if Yamada was okay, but Daiki didn't give him a chance to speak, instead just pointing up ahead and a little to their right and saying, his voice rough, throat ravaged

“Help them!” Keito could feel the panic closing in, his throat closing up, mind numb with fear, and he just stood there for a moment, Chinen’s grip on his hand tightening as he tugged Keito in the direction Daiki had indicated, not speaking, just pressing on. Keito registered what was happening all at once and he picked up speed, running and yelling for their housemates. For Hikaru. The first few attempts were unfruitful, but then there was a sharp cry of

“Here!” Keito squinted through the darkness and the smoke, and as they ran toward the noise he saw something moving on the grass up ahead. It took him a moment to realize just what it was he was seeing. It was Hikaru, his arm slung around Takaki’s waist, Takaki limp, body dragging. As Keito drew closer he heard Chinen curse, his little body tensing up even more, and Keito realized that Takaki’s clothes were in tatters, most of them gone. His right side was exposed, the right sleeve of his suit now only reaching his elbow, his pants and underwear completely gone, the remains of them pooling around his left shoe, leaving him totally nude from the waist down.

Takaki’s body was mangled, the skin horrifically mottled, patches of charred black in a sea of stark red, glistening muscle where all of the skin had sloughed off, any remaining that wasn’t black was pale white, dry and leathery against the wet muscle. It was grotesque, lit up in the bright glow of the blazing building only meters away, Keito able to clearly see the track up Takaki’s body from mid calf all the way up to his chest, running along one side. It was hard to look at, Keito averting his eyes, instead looking at Hikaru. Their leader seemed to be in much better shape, his clothes still intact and his skin unbroken, until he gestured for Keito to come closer, and Keito got a look at his hands.

Hikaru’s palms were starkly red, the skin swollen and raw, and Keito leapt forward, dropping Chinen’s hand to reach for Takaki, taking him out of Hikaru’s grip, Takaki’s body heavy. Keito’s stomach was a black pit of fear, and he barely registered that he was the one talking when he asked

“What happened? What do we do?” He heard the tears in his voice, not really able to feel them on his cheeks, only able to feel Takaki’s weight and the miserable heat of the fire, and he turned back toward the way they had come, the want to flee the fire instinctual. He was faced with Chinen, who was just standing there, still, his eyes wide in terror as they looked at Takaki. Takaki exhaled, a low whine coming from between his parted lips as Keito tugged the older man’s left arm over his shoulder, trying to get a good grip on him. Trying to just not think about it, and instead simply move. No one answered his questions, and so after a moment of choking panic he prompted “Hikaru?”

“He...he got kerosene on his clothes and the wind-the wind carried the fire. I tried to put him out, but it happened so fast, I—I wasn’t fast enough, and—” Hikaru was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering in the heat, muffled noises of the trapped Wakaba’s screams raising in volume, and it seemed to snap Chinen out of the horrified stupor he’d been in, the small man coming over to Takaki’s burned side, and gently but deliberately he slipped up next to him, his arm sliding in next to Ketio’s on Takaki’s back, Takaki whimpering but making no other protest.

“Hospital.” Hikaru said, the word harsh as he reached into his pocket, flinching in pain as he grabbed for his cell phone, gesturing with his other hand for them to get moving. Keito just nodded, feeling the weight of the horrors around him, instead only pushing his feet to move faster, he and Chinen dragging Takaki away from the flames and toward their territory at an awkward gate that fell somewhere between a power walk and a jog. He was taking deep ragged breaths, trying to fight the panic clawing up his throat, but the smoke made him cough, the air thin, dry and so, so hot, and his eyes blurred with tears.

He couldn’t hear Hikaru’s voice over the cracking roar of the flames, but he could see their leader talking into his phone, his own pulse pounding in his ears rapidfire, as they distanced themselves from the fire, the sounds of the tortured shrieks and the crackling blaze diminishing as they turned a corner, their world cast into darkness as the shadows of surrounding buildings hid the light of the fire, and it was then that the harsh klaxton of an ambulance grew louder and louder, and the relief that noise brought with it was heady, Keito’s vision blurring with tears as the vehicle turned the last corner and came into view.

Time seemed to speed up, everything moving as if on fast forward, his heart still pounding in his chest, tears running down his cheeks, breaths coming in fast gulps as the paramedics took Takaki from him. Keito was inable to say anything; just listening as Hikaru spoke, keeping as close as he could to Takaki’s side until Takaki was being loaded into the ambulance, pausing at the back of the vehicle, the horror of it all rooting him in place. It was then that Hikaru pushed him toward the ambulance, speaking to the paramedics from behind Keito, declaring that Keito was going too, that he and Chinen would be in the next one, and Keito barely processed any of the information, just doing as he was told, climbing inside the vehicle, sitting in a corner to stay out of the way, his eyes on Takaki.

They already had him hooked up to a couple of different IVs, an oxygen mask over his face, his clothes removed. The paramedics were talking to each other, but Keito didn’t listen to what they were saying, his focus on Takaki, his eyes roaming Takaki’s swathes of burned skin in the harsh artificial lights of the ambulance, throwing the horrors he’d seen by the light of the flames into an even sharper clarity, and he was so afraid for Takaki that it petrified him. He wanted to ask, to ask if Takaki was going to be okay, but the paramedics were all so focused, and he was afraid of drawing their attention away from his companion, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent taking care of him.

And so he remained quiet and still, and he watched and breathed, trying to get his heartbeat under control, to get his breathing back to normal, as the ambulance raced to the hospital. Luckily the closest hospital was on their side of the river, and as a result it felt like only a few minutes had passed before they were being ushered out, Keito looking up at the familiar building, knowing he should feel relieved, but stuck with a knot of apprehension. They were at the same hospital they always went to, the same hospital that Shoon had died in, and Keito actively avoided the place, as it always stirred up harsh emotions. Now, he just gritted his teeth, brow furrowing automatically, and he followed the paramedics inside.

He tried to stay with Takaki, but the doctors wouldn’t let him, taking one look at him before sending him to get checked over, concerns voiced about just how much smoke he must have inhaled. In the end Keito found himself washed of Takaki’s blood and forced onto a bed, unable to see or hear Takaki, instead hooked up to an oxygen mask, after having been told to stay put. Only minutes later the bed next to his was filled, and Keito was relieved to see Chinen, the young man being given the same treatment, an oxygen mask of his own placed over his nose and mouth. Keito caught Chinen’s eye as soon as he could, and as soon as he spotted Keito Chinen picked his oxygen tank up, moving to sit on Keito’s bed, the two of them back to back.

Keito took Chinen’s hand, feeling Chinen lean back against him, a sigh escaping the smaller man’s lips. Chinen’s willingness to accept Keito’s touch surprised him—there was only one other occasion in which Chinen had been physically close with Keito like this previously, and it had been the night of Ryutaro’s murder. But perhaps, Keito speculated, Chinen was like him, in that he liked physical comfort. It was just that he usually had someone else to do it for him. Now with Ryutaro gone, and Takaki’s life hanging in the balance, Keito was all he had. The thought made Keito’s heart squeeze tightly in his chest, and Keito gave Chinen’s fingers a squeeze, saying

“Takaki is going to be okay.” Chinen didn’t respond to that, and Keito could feel the fatigue of the night weighing on him, but he knew it would be a long time before their night was over. They sat like that, silence stretching between the two of them as time passed unchecked. Other patients and nurses and doctors shuffled in and out of the big space they were in, but none of them were familiar, and they all blurred together under the harsh hospital lights. Keito wanted to relax, to calm down and be patient, but he was wired, stressed about being there, terrified for Takaki, wondering where Hikaru was. And the gut wrenching screams of the burning Wakaba kept playing in his mind on a loop, the terror of it all making him want to climb out of his own skin and just run.

Eventually he and Chinen were spoken to by a nurse, the woman telling them they were free to go, before leading them instead to a private room, telling them that their companion was inside. Keito’s heart leapt into his throat, and he glanced over at Chinen, afraid to open the door, afraid to see the room on the other side. Chinen didn’t visibly react, just leaning forward, pushing the door open. Keito bit at his bottom lip, expecting to see Takaki hooked up to a bunch of machines, bracing himself for the horror, but he was wrong. It was Hikaru. He’d lost his suit jacket but he still had his shirt and tie on. He was hooked up to an oxygen tank as well, his hands laid out in front of him, thick, heavy duty looking bandages wrapped around both up past his wrist.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, and when they came in he looked up, Keito able to see wet trails running down his cheeks where he was crying. Hikaru straightened his back, and Keito went to him, reaching out for him, wanting to touch him, to hold him, but he froze halfway there, unsure if Hikaru would want him to in front of Chinen. Unsure if Hikaru even could be touched, without it hurting. Hikaru took a big gulping breath, and gestured to the space on the bed next to him, and Keito sat down, pressing one knee to the older man’s as Hikaru asked, his voice rough, though whether it was from the crying or the smoke he’d inhaled Keito didn’t know.

“How’s Takaki?” The question was met with silence, and it hung heavy in the air, Keito able to feel the anxiety and fear rising off of their skin, and eventually he just asked a question of his own instead of feeding their fear

“How are you? Your hands—will they be okay?” Hikaru nodded, holding his bandaged hands out for Keito to see, declaring

“They’ll be okay. The doctor said it was second degree burns, from where I touched Takaki’s flaming clothes, so most of the damage is on my palms. There’ll be some scarring, but it shouldn’t affect me permanently.” He paused, bending his fingers a little, showing Keito he could still use them. “I’ll be fine.” Keito nodded, looking up to see Chinen still standing there in the middle of the room, his little body still, eyes unfocused but wide and fearful. Keito called over to him, the sound of his voice seeming to snap Chinen out of whatever trance he had been in. Keito patted his thighs, a little nervous about offering up his lap, not wanting to offend the former leader, or imply weakness, but wanting even more to offer comfort, to do something to get that blank fear off of Chinen’s face.

Wordlessly Chinen crossed the room, plopping himself right into Keito’s arms, and Keito sighed in relief, wrapping one arm around Chinen’s waist to keep him in place, the other hand rubbing circles on Chinen’s back, and while the original intent had been to offer comfort, Keito could feel himself relaxing a little too. After a moment Hikaru said

“We’re not going home until we hear about Takaki.” Both Keito and Chinen nodded, and the three of them fell back into silence, all of them exhausted and miserable. Keito took some comfort in the feeling of Hikaru and Chinen’s breathing, their bodies expanding and contracting enough for him to feel it, and the physical proof of life, that they were okay, was calming on a subconscious level. But the underlying fear that something had gone wrong with Takaki, that he wouldn’t pull through, was enough to keep them all tense, despite the exhaustion, despite the stillness, and the peace of the hospital room.

And so they watched the time pass on the face of the clock hanging above the door, the three of them pressed together, sitting on the side of the hospital bed. The night stretched on painfully, Keito’s throat raw, whole body trembling from exhaustion and stress, and he knew they felt the same, and so when a nurse finally came in to check on Hikaru they all bombarded her with questions, Hikaru demanding an update on Takaki’s condition. She was visibly afraid of them, Hikaru and Keito’s tattoos and the guns sticking out of the backs of their belts probably the only reason she promised them the doctor would be right in to let them know about Takaki, her voice trembling as she left the room.

She was true to her word however, and a few minutes later one of the doctors came in, his face serious, and he explained that Takaki had sustained third degree burns up his right side, and that he would need to spend extensive time at the hospital, as burns of that level healed slowly, and would need constant care. He informed them that Takaki was in surgery, that they were removing dead skin and tissue from the burned area, and that he was almost definitely going to need skin grafts, and some reconstructive surgery over the course of the next few weeks to months. It was at the end that the man finally told them that Takaki had received a blood transfusion, and was receiving fluids, and that despite everything, he would most definitely live.

It was those last few words that they’d been waiting to hear, the rest of it all important, but a good deal of the tension drained from the room as soon as it was declared that Takaki would make it through this ordeal.

“After his surgery, can we see him?” Chinen asked, noticeably more relaxed than he had been only moments before, and the man pursed his lips, shaking his head, and something inside of Keito flared up, angry at the denial, wanting more than anything to lay eyes on Takaki, and see for himself that the older man was going to be alright.

“I’m sorry but he’s going to be in and out of surgeries for quite some time. I would recommend you all go home and get some rest. Call tomorrow after you’ve gotten some sleep, and check in on him then.” He paused, as if sensing the discontent in the room, and he added “Let us do our job. He’s not going to die. I promise.” His declaration was met with more silence, and after a moment he excused himself, leaving them to themselves, and it was then that Hikaru spoke, his words slow, obviously deep in thought

“I don’t like it, but...we need to go home. Daiki and Yamada were beaten up pretty bad. We need to make sure they’re okay. And everyone’s going to be worried about Takaki. They should know what happened. They should know he’s going to be okay.” There was a pause, before Chinen just said, his voice low, quiet

“Okay.” Hikaru nodded, and Keito knew their leader was right. There was nothing else they could do for Takaki right now. But the Ariokas might still need them. And everyone at the house had probably heard about what had happened from Daiki. They deserved to know that Takaki was going to make it out of this ordeal alive.

“Are you up for the walk?” Keito asked, not sure who seemed more fragile—Chinen or Hikaru—and it was then that they truly were set in motion, everyone getting to their feet, Hikaru unhooking himself from his oxygen tank, as Chinen made for the door. Hikaru pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with slow movements and trembling hands, and Keito was opening his mouth to offer to help when Chinen offered his hand out for Hikaru to put the little device in. But Hikaru gritted his teeth and shook his head.

“I can do it.” Hikaru assured him, and Chinen nodded, instead holding the door open, Hikaru fumbling with his phone, eventually holding it up to his ear and saying “Inoo, hey.” Keito didn’t really listen to the conversation, too wrung out to really focus on anything for too long, instead just numbly looking over his companions, taking in the little details as the three of them made their way out of the hospital and back out into the night, the long walk back to their home depositing them at the front door, the smell of smoke hanging in the air.


	31. Chapter 31

The lights were still on when the three of them opened the front door, the warm light overwhelming for a moment, everything too bright, jarring. Inoo, Yuto, and Daiki were all there, the three of them sitting in the living room, and when they came in all of their housemates stood up, coming over to them with open arms. Daiki reached Keito first, and Keito leaned into him, the feeling of someone’s arms around him instantly comforting. Hugs were passed around, the relief of the others palpable. They all looked haunted by the events of the night, but none more than Inoo, the older man’s whole body trembling with stress and fatigue, wet trails of tears rolling from wide red eyes.

“How’s Yamada?” Hikaru asked, as they all moved to sit at the kitchen table, everyone just plopping into whichever chair was closest. Keito felt a knot of anxiety tighten back up at the question, but Daiki assured them

“He’s about a six. He woke up on the way back here, and we got him all patched up and put him to bed. He’s sleeping.”

“What happened to you guys?” Chinen asked, as Yuto hobbled around, setting leftovers from their dinner out in front of them. Keito hadn’t even considered that he might be hungry until he laid eyes on food, but he grabbed a bowl of rice, and a set of chopsticks, and he picked up a bite, shoving it in his mouth before getting a second and leaning forward, offering it to Hikaru. Hikaru looked at him for moment, eyes glancing over at their housemates in apparent embarrassment at being fed in front of them, before he gave in and leaned forward, taking the rice from Keito.

“Keito and I didn’t have much trouble, and we know what happened with Yuya, but—” Chinen was cut off when Yuto picked up a bowl of rice, physically shoving it in front of his face in a silent insistence. Chinen took the rice with pursed lips and a small glare, and Daiki said

“It went to shit for us almost immediately. There were guards posted at the doors, and it would have been fine, except the third one just screamed instead of fighting us, and he alerted the people inside that we were there. So as Ryosuke was trying to get the doors locked we were being attacked.” He had a pained look on his face, his voice low, quiet. “I shot as many of them as I could, and I tried to cover him so he could work on getting the doors secure. Most couldn’t make it past both of us but at least ten—hell, maybe as many as twenty of those fuckers—got away before we could torch the place.” He sighed. “I shot a few, so I don’t know how many will actually make it.”

“We’d all but finished, everything ablaze, when one of the bastards on the outside with us managed to beam Ryosuke on the head when I was reloading, and he just fell to the ground. So I...I killed the fucker, and scooped Ryosuke up. I ran toward the meeting place, but then I heard Hikaru yelling, and turned and well...you all know the rest.”

“So...ten to twenty of those guys are still alive. Plus any that just happened to be out that night.” Hikaru said, brow furrowed, and Daiki nodded, Hikaru taking another bite from Keito while he thought.

“That’s not many, but it is more than we were anticipating.” Yuto said, Daiki and Chinen both nodding, and Hikaru swallowed, sighing.

“I’m not sure what that means for us. We have a significantly larger force, but if Ichinojo is one of those lucky few I wouldn’t put it past them to try and retaliate. We’ll just have to—” He paused, freezing, eyes wide, and for a moment everyone looked at him in confusion, but then Keito heard, faintly, a voice calling for help.

“That sounds like—” Yuto barely started the sentence before they were all getting to their feet, charging up the stairs, Keito’s adrenaline pumping once more, hope rising in his chest as they all burst into Inoo’s bedroom.

“Hello?” The voice was rough with disuse, high with stress and confusion, and there were muttered curses from the rest of them at the sound. A light was flicked on, and Yabu scrunched his face up at the sudden brightness, and at the movement Keito collapsed into Yuto’s side, the relief and happiness he felt taking any scrap of strength left in him. Yuto pulled him close, his arm around Keito’s shoulders, and Keito’s vision blurred with tears as Yabu blinked up at them.

“Thank god, Yabuchii.” Hikaru murmured, stepping closer and sinking down on the mattress to sit by Yabu’s side, reaching out to take his hand, but Yabu barely paid him any attention, his eyes instead focused on Inoo, and he said

“Inoo, you’re awake. Are you okay?” Those questions felt like a punch in the gut, Keito thrown by the sudden awareness that Yabu had been unconscious for weeks. That Yabu had missed out on what felt like the countless horrors that had taken place since Inoo had woken from his coma. Inoo breathed in sharply, his eyes wide, but he nodded, coming closer to the bed and crouching down so he and Yabu were eye level, and he said

“I’m okay. Just a bit skinny now, see?” Yabu assessed him sharply, eyes raking over Inoo’s face for a long time, and at that Inoo broke out in a smile; a soft, sweet smile. It was that smile that seemed to finally convince him, and Yabu nodded, Inoo standing back up, Yabu declaring

“I want to sit up.” He moved to push himself up with his arms, and Hikaru and Inoo both moved to help him, pulling him up and propping his back on some pillows so he would be comfortable. It was then that Hikaru caught Yabu’s eye, and seeing Yabu blinking at him, seeing the way he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and concern was just precious in a starkly surprising and overwhelming way. “How are you feeling?” Hikaru asked, and Yabu pursed his lips, shrugging, before just offering

“Confused. Worried.” He looked at Hikaru’s bandaged hands, frowning. “What happened to you?” Hikaru blinked in surprise at the question, but he answered it all the same

“I burned my palms.” Yabu opened his mouth, still visibly concerned for Hikaru’s wellbeing, but Hikaru assured him before he could even open his mouth “I’ll be just fine. It’s really not a big deal.” Yabu treated him to a long look, before he nodded, conceding before the discussion could escalate into something heated that neither of them had the energy for. Instead he cleared his throat and glanced down at the sheets covering his body, a whole new concern washing over him.

“I’m okay right? Like I still have all my limbs and everything? I’m not going to look in the mirror and find out I somehow lost an ear or something?” The question would have been almost funny if the possibility of any one of those things happening hadn’t been so plausible. And Yabu didn’t know about the deep new scars he had cutting from his face all the way down his torso and legs, Keito realized. But Chinen answered the question with a simple

“You’re okay.” Yabu nodded, and they all lapsed into a silence, the six of them all looking at him, him looking right back, his eyes taking their faces in one at a time, and after a moment he said

“I’m confused still. What happened? Where are the other three?” Those were hard questions, everyone tensing up, no one sure where to start, no one wanting to explain everything that had happened.

“Ryosuke is asleep in bed. He was hurt in the last fight, and it is very late at night.” Daiki offered. Yabu nodded, his eyes flicking immediately around looking for a clock at the mention of the late hour.

“And Yuya is in the hospital.” Inoo said quietly, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. That caught Yabu’s attention, and he was visibly beginning to panic, Hikaru assuring him

“Takaki should be okay. The doctors said he’ll live—”

“He’ll _live?!”_ Yabu hissed, eyes wide, the words only seeming to make him more upset, and he asked, his voice getting that high tone it got when he was afraid “What the hell do you mean he’ll live?!”

“Yuya has third degree burns up the right side of his body.” Chinen said, his words blunt but his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “He’s currently undergoing surgeries, and he’s going to have to stay for a while.”

“Fuck.” Yabu muttered, his face betraying just how overwhelmed he felt at that news. He pulled away from Hikaru a bit, leaning back into his pillows, shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, just thinking quietly to himself, processing that new piece of information. In that pause Chinen left, Keito catching a glimpse of a tear rolling down the former leader’s cheek as he passed, everything apparently just too much. Keito wasn’t sure what to do, not wanting to leave Chinen alone but feeling rooted to the spot, stretched so thin by the nights events, so wrung out by his extreme emotions that he wasn’t sure he could move, or speak, or do anything to help. But then Daiki turned and followed him out, and Keito hoped that the older man could do something.

“How did it happen?” Yabu asked eventually, his eyes still closed for a moment, only opening them when no one immediately started answering his question.

“We burned down the Wakaba base.” Hikaru finally admitted, and Yabu stilled, obviously not anticipating a response like that. But Hikaru didn’t stop. “We killed almost all of them. Burned them inside.” Yabu’s eyes were wide, and he’d gone a bit pale, but he still hadn’t moved. “Takaki got some kerosene on his clothes and I tried to put him out, which is how we got hurt.” Hikaru explained, the words coming halting and slow.

“You-you…” Yabu couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it. “You burned it down. Killed them all.” There was a small pause, before Hikaru said

“Yes.”

“What-what...how?” The question brought back the screaming, and the death, and the heat and the _smell_ of it all sharply in Keito’s mind, and he pulled away from Yuto, suddenly nauseous, considering leaving once more, not sure he could take this discussion. Not sure he ever would be able to. But he only managed to shuffle to the back of the group before his feet betrayed him, and fell still, his eyes glued to Yabu’s face, his ears straining to hear. He watched as Yabu considered the disheveled look Hikaru had, the grime still stuck to their suits and the way Keito knew he smelled of smoke, and Yabu cursed sharply, a long string of curses, and he asked “Tonight?! Hikaru—” He paused. “Just _now,_ you haven’t even _changed,_ you just got back, you-you—”

Hikaru reached out, grabbing Yabu’s hand, big tears rolling down his cheeks, and Keito wanted to stay, wanted to be there for his boyfriend, for his leader, despite the choked panic he was beginning to feel, that this was all too much. It wasn’t the information; he’d participated in the massacre willingly, he’d been privy to the plan for weeks, and he had grown comfortable with it, at least in theory. Sure, the taste of ash in his mouth and the screams echoing in his ears were unsettling, but something about the shock on Yabu’s face made everything worse tenfold. It was achingly heavy, the way Yabu’s reaction made him feel, and it took this thing they had done, they had normalized, and shone a new light on it.

He wanted to make Yabu understand that it wasn’t Hikaru’s fault, that this was the best way. But the silence was thick, everyone sitting with baited breath, and while Keito believed that what they’d done was the best thing they could do for the kumi, the horror Yabu was digesting was almost validating in Keito’s own desperation. In his own misery. He’d grown so accustomed to feeling tense and scared and sad, that watching it all play out on someone else’s face was somehow therapeutic. Knowing his reactions were mirrored in another had a twisted comfort to it, and he stood still, at the back of the pack, as Yabu said quietly

“Tell me about it.”

“Now?” Yuto asked, frowning a little. “Do you want to eat or sleep or something?”

“No. I want to know. I want to know what’s happened while I’ve been unconscious.” Yabu said, and Inoo sighed.

“It’s just...it’s a lot. And…”

“No.” Yabu said sternly, despite the fear in his face and Hikaru nodded, murmuring

“Okay.” He looked over at the other three of them, and he said assuringly “You all should go to bed. You’ve been up all night. Inoo, I’m sorry, I know you must want to go to bed.”

“You can take my bunk tonight.” Keito interjected, and everyone looked at him, Inoo nodding a little in thanks, while Yuto and Hikaru’s brows furrowed, concern on both of their faces. Neither said anything however, and eventually Hikaru said

“Just...give us some time.” There was a silence, Yuto and Inoo both nodding and turning away, but Keito stayed still, and took a deep breath, not wanting to leave Hikaru to face this conversation alone. Keito walked past the other two men to reach Hikaru’s side, pushing himself to be there next to him, the want to offer comfort and support an ineffable feeling. He sat there on the bed next to his boyfriend, not looking at Yabu, not looking at anything but Hikaru, and he leaned in, pressing himself in close so that their bodies were touching anywhere they could be, sides pressed together.

“I want to stay. Please, Kumi-cho.” Hikaru looked over at him, surprise in his eyes, and if Keito could have he would have taken his hand, but he couldn’t so he just folded them together in his lap, waiting to see if Hikaru would still tell him to go. Instead Hikaru simply turned back to Yabu and began to explain. He started with the formation of the plan, walking the other man how they had landed on locking the Wakaba inside of their own base and setting the building ablaze. He told Yabu how they’d gradually gathered the materials they would need, stockpiling kerosene in the shrine room. He explained about how they’d gotten the keys, how they’d hunted Miura Haruma and Sato Takeru and killed them. He went through the finer details, going over the strategy and the groups they had chosen, and what job each of them did.

Throughout it all Keito kept himself close, eyes flicking over Hikaru’s face, feeling how tense his shoulder was where it was pressed against his own, seeing the way his jaw worked in stress, hearing the way his voice got higher and his words shorter when he hit a particularly nasty piece of information, and Keito tried to focus on the flow and the tone, instead of the meaning of the words that fell from Hikaru’s lips. He already knew everything that was being said; he didn’t need to hear it all again. The explanation took quite some time, despite Yabu remaining mostly silent, the older man just sitting quietly while Hikaru talked, his eyes on Hikaru’s face as well, face serious.

Hikaru went through everything, detailing it out with care, and then at the end he explained how in practice everything had fallen apart, how they had mostly succeeded, but at a greater cost than they’d anticipated. How some of the Wakaba were still out there. How Takaki had been rushed to the hospital. How they’d only been home an hour before he’d heard Yabu’s voice, and come running. It wasn’t until everything had been said that Yabu asked after a long silence

“What about Ryu?” Keito’s breath caught in his throat, a sharp pain running through his chest, his grief hitting him like a bullet, tearing through his defenses and leaving him gasping, and he turned away, looking at his own soot stained pants as Yabu continued. “You haven’t mentioned him once, in this whole plan. Is he hurt?” Yabu’s tone betrayed the fear he was working to keep out of his eyes, and Keito knew he was tense, his eyes flicking up to Hikaru’s face, the grief there enough of an answer on its own. But Yabu wasn’t having it, not wanting to believe the implications in the omission, in the silence. Tears began welling up in his eyes, but his voice grew sharp, as he asked

“Where is Ryutaro? What happened to him?” The grief ballooned in Keito’s chest, an ache like a phantom limb expanding inside of him as Yabu’s voice shook, and a tear rolled down his cheek, escaping just before Hikaru said, his own voice high with sadness and pain, watery with tears

“He’s dead. Shot the same night you were knocked out. He—he’s been dead for over a month.”

“No. No no no.” Yabu’s protests were weak, tears already rolling down his cheeks, and he whined, his sobs growing louder, as his heart broke just like all the rest of them.


	32. Chapter 32

It was a little after four in the morning when Hikaru and Keito left Yabu’s side, Keito drooping with exhaustion, completely wrung out. They stood on the landing at the top of the stairs for a few long moments, and it was then that he realized Hikaru had started trembling, and Keito reached for his hand, pulling back sharply when he felt the bandages under his fingertips, the tactile reminder of his boyfriend’s injuries. Instead he turned, moving so he was behind Hikaru, and wrapped his arms around the older man, pulling him close so that Keito’s chest was firmly against his back, and his head was on Hikaru’s shoulder, and he tried for a few moments to find words that Hikaru needed to hear. In the end, it was Hikaru that spoke first

“I’m just—I’m just so glad he’s awake.” Keito nodded, and Hikaru’s shoulders slumped even more, leaning back into Keito’s touch. “I-I…” Words seemed to be failing him too, and Keito pressed his face into Hikaru’s neck, cringing a little when he inhaled and all he could really smell was smoke.

“Shower and bed?” He offered quietly, too tired to really form complicated sentences, and Hikaru nodded, taking a step forward, Keito’s arms dropping to his sides, and they went down the stairs in silence, Keito wordlessly stepping forward once they reached the Kumi-cho’s quarters, opening all of the doors, and turning on the shower before turning to Hikaru and reaching for his tie. Hikaru sighed, hands coming up to get at it himself but Keito shook his head, murmuring “They hurt don’t they? Using them isn’t going to help.” Hikaru didn’t say anything, but he let Keito undress him, Keito leaning in to press a slow kiss to Hikaru’s lips before he stepped out of his own clothes, their weapons deposited haphazardly on the counter by the sink.

Keito looked Hikaru over, knowing logically that as no one had thrown any punches Hikaru really should be fine aside from his burns, but there was a little voice in the back of his head that worried. Hikaru gave him the same treatment, asking quietly if Keito was okay, and Keito nodded, leaning in to kiss Hikaru again, and asking

“Are you ready to get in?” Hikaru just shrugged, looking about as exhausted and wrung out as Keito felt, and Keito stepped in first, the warm water instantly soothing, and he let his eyes flutter shut for a moment as Hikaru followed him into the shower, the older man just standing there, his bandaged hands tucked as far away from the spray as he could get them. The hot water was waking Keito up, refreshing in a wonderful way, and Keito felt more alert as he stepped aside and said “I’ll wash your hair, okay?” Hikaru nodded, still quiet, and he tipped his head back into the water, Keito admiring his face and the line of his throat for a moment before he reached up, running his hands through Hikaru’s hair, making sure it all got wet before he reached for the shampoo.

The shower was spent almost completely in silence, Hikaru only protesting for a moment when Keito lathered up his hands to wash Hikaru’s body, the older man blushing and shivering a little as Keito ran his fingers over every uncovered inch of skin. It was rather erotic, but Keito tried not to think about that. Hikaru was hurt, and besides, they were both so exhausted he didn’t think anything could come of it all even if they wanted to. He did place a few kisses on Hikaru’s shoulders and back, Hikaru leaning into him, the action making Keito’s chest warm with affection. By the time the shower ended Keito was feeling much more calm, all of the panic and stress he’d accumulated throughout the day having been reduced to a low buzz at the back of his mind, replaced mostly by warm exhaustion.

He dried them both off, and though Hikaru protested that it was stupid and ridiculous he helped his boyfriend brush his teeth. It wasn’t until after they were both in sweatpants, their bedtime routine finished that Keito placed one last kiss on Hikaru’s lips and said his goodnight, turning and making for the door. It was just about five in the morning now, and he was ready to curl up on the couch and sleep until dinner time. He only made it a few paces however before Hikaru called out to him, his voice startlingly needy, a tone Keito had only heard a handful of times previous as he said

“Keito, wait!” Keito turned back to see Hikaru pursing his lips, his shoulders slumped, eyes wide, and he nodded over at his bed, the request in his action clear. Keito’s chest ached. He turned back around, and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Hikaru in a solid hug, feeling Hikaru hook his chin over his shoulder, and pressing back, despite his arms staying by his sides.

“Hikaru, you’re hurt.” Keito said lowly. “I don’t think we should share a bed tonight. We shouldn’t until your hands are starting to look better.” Hikaru froze a little at that, and it was maybe a little hypocritical, because when their positions had been reversed Hikaru had made this same decision. “I don’t want to hurt you. And it will only be for a week or two.” Keito murmured, and Hikaru pulled back, looking at him, and Keito was surprised to find that his eyes were shining with unshed tears, face just barely under control, as he said

“I know. I _know,_ but—” Hikaru sniffed, and cursed, looking frustrated at himself for his own weakness, and the knot in Keito’s chest wound tighter. “Please.” Keito reached up, cupping Hikarus’ face, and Hikaru looked him right in the eye, and admitted “I need you tonight.” His voice was so quiet that even standing right in front of him Keito strained momentarily to hear it. The confession was said so tenderly that Keito couldn’t help but kiss him, pressing in closer, their foreheads and noses touching after the kiss broke, Keito breathing him in for a few long moments.

Realistically Keito knew he should insist Hikaru just get in bed, and a small part of him was worried about Hikaru’s hands. Hikaru had a high pain tolerance but Keito knew they had to be really hurting. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to voice those thoughts when he was looking into Hikaru’s eyes, the desperation in them reminiscent of the night of Ryutaro’s funeral—the night that Hikaru had confessed to still wanting to shoot up sometimes. And the realization of just how similar that night and this one was sent a jolt of sickening understanding through Keito’s body like an electric shock, and despite his concerns about Hikaru’s hands he found himself saying

“Okay; okay.” Hikaru let out a sigh of relief, and he leaned in, kissing Keito, before leaning against his chest for a long moment like he had in the shower. It was sweet, and comforting, and Keito breathed him in, relieved to note that he didn’t smell like smoke anymore. After some careful maneuvering they managed to curl up in Hikaru’s bed, Hikaru’s back pressed flush against Keito’s chest, Keito’s arms wrapped around Hikaru’s waist while Hikaru’s arms were pushed out away from his body, hands off the edge of the mattress so that they weren’t touching anything. Moments after settling into that position Keito crashed, the soft mattress and Hikaru’s warm body allowing his exhaustion to finally overtake him, and drag him into sleep.

Neither of them slept well, both tormented by nightmares, Ketio waking up in cold sweats, breathing heavily, his heart racing, the echoes of the screams in his ears and flames flickering behind his eyelids. It helped to wake up with his arms around Hikaru’s waist, his face buried into the back of his boyfriend’s neck. Hikaru woke a few times in the night, bursting awake with a jolt, ripping Keito from sleep, and neither of them really said anything about it, both knowing what the dreams were, and just pressing closer. Hikaru was grounding, Hikaru was comfort, and love, and home, and it was automatically relieving for Keito to be able to curl his arms a little tighter around the older man, and feel Hikaru’s heart beating under his hands.

They gave up on sleep at around noon, the both of them awake, sunlight streaming in the windows, bodies somehow simultaneously more and less rested than before they’d fallen asleep. They just lay there in bed for a while, curled up around each other, and the room was still but for the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed. It was peaceful. More peaceful than anything had been since the night before, and Keito let it wash over him, body limp and heavy and all wrapped around Hikaru. But then Hikaru shifted, rolling over so that they were face to face, and he pressed a sweet, rather sleepy kiss to Keito’s lips, his hands coming up automatically to cup Keito’s face, hovering just a few millimeters from the skin.

Instead Keito reached up with his own hand, brushing some of Hikaru’s hair away from his own face, and resting his palm against Hikaru’s warm cheek. He just looked at him for a while, Hikaru blinking and looking away, becoming a little self conscious under Keito’s gaze, but Keito let himself look for a few long moments, before leaning in and kissing Hikaru again, this kiss more focused, Keito hovering a little over Hikaru’s body, Hikaru lying back on the bed. They kissed for a few minutes, a sense hanging over them that if they didn’t get up, the world would just stop, and they could pretend that the fresh traumas of the night before were nothing.

But then Keito’s stomach growled, and Hikaru sighed, declaring that he had to pee, sitting up, and the weight of their lives came crashing down. Hikaru got up, making for the bathroom, and Keito rolled over, lying there staring at the ceiling for a minute, only standing when he heard the toilet flush, a new concern creeping into the forefront of his mind, and when Hikaru came out of the bathroom he found himself asking

“Hikaru, can I see your hands?” Hikaru nodded, immediately offering his hands for Keito, and Keito blushed a little at the unspoken blatant trust in that simple action, gesturing for Hikaru to sit on the bed before he crouched down, rather tentative as he began unwrapping Hikaru’s hands. Hikaru stayed still, unflinching as Keito worked, but Keito knew better than to think that meant he wasn’t in any pain, and so he tried to be gentle, leaning in close to see his work as he unwound the dressing from each of Hikaru’s fingers individually, the bandages crusted and moist as he got close to the skin. Hikaru’s palms were bright pink, small blisters forming along his skin, his fingers raw looking, the burns weeping, shiny and wet. Keito frowned, examining it all closely, and Hikaru didn’t move, just sitting there, letting him.

“It looks painful.” Keito said, and Hikaru shrugged, Keito leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, Hikaru conceding after Keito’s lips left his skin

“It hurts.” His eyes met Keito’s own, wide and searching, and he said “But it’s nothing I can’t handle, you know.” Keito nodded, looking down at the ugly injuries, and he murmured

“I know. I just don’t want you to have to.” Hikaru’s lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile at that, and Keito turned away, offering to rewrap Hikaru’s hands as he made to retrieve the small first aid kit they kept under the bathroom sink. The bandaging process was a long, tedious one. Keito was afraid of doing the dressing too tight, or too rough, and as a result he moved slowly, asking repeatedly if everything was okay. Hikaru was patient with him, allowing him to fret and worry. It was good to focus on Hikaru, and not on how fatigued he still felt, on the nightmares and memories that made his stomach churn. On the fear and uncertainty that were biding their time in the back of his mind, waiting for him to let down his guard.

Once Hikaru’s hands were all taken care of the two of them went out into the kitchen, Keito making them a meal while Hikaru called the hospital on his cell phone. Keito dialed the number for him, but his leader refused to allow him to hold the receiver, batting him away with a small blush dusting his cheeks at Keito’s overbearing behavior. Keito tried not to eavesdrop, and instead focus on making miso soup for the two of them. Hikaru’s phone call didn’t last long, and when it was over he joined Keito at the stove, attempting to help multiple times before Keito convinced him to just sit and wait. As Keito cooked Hikaru told him about his phone call.

The doctors had said that Takaki had made it through his first surgery just fine, and was scheduled for two more over the next two days. The hospital was giving him fluids and strong painkillers, but he was also spending a lot of time on anesthesia, and was not suitable for visitors. The news was relieving, and a little frustrating; Keito wanted to see Takaki. He knew they all did. But hearing that Takaki was getting help and going to get better was good. As they talked Keito finished cooking, taking a big bowl of soup to the table and raising the spoon up to Hikaru’s lips, offering to feed him just as he had the night before. Hikaru was less embarrassed about the feeding than he had the last time, perhaps due to the fact that they were all alone.

The meal was eaten mostly in silence, the both of them still fatigued from the long, torturous night they’d had, just drawing comfort in each other's presence and the warm food. It was almost nice, rather intimate and peaceful, in the wake of everything that had happened, and Keito tried to draw the moments out, sitting close so that their shoulders brushed, and their knees knocked when they moved. It couldn’t last however, Hikaru saying something about calling the underlings to check in just as the stillness of it all was broken at the sound of feet on the stairs. They both looked up in anticipation, separating slightly on reflex as Chinen came into the kitchen, the smaller man obviously having just woken up, his hair a mess, eyes still glassy with sleep.

Moments later there were more footsteps, Daiki emerging carrying a tray with dirty bowls and plates, the older man telling them that his husband was awake, and they’d had breakfast in bed. Both Daiki and Chinen moved around the kitchen loudly, Chinen getting himself a bowl of soup from the stove while Daiki washed the dirty dishes he’d been carrying. Their housemates immediately took seats at the table, asking Hikaru questions about Takaki, asking for news about the Wakaba, about anything new, and Keito got to his feet, their big bowl of soup empty now anyway, excusing himself.

He made his way up to the Ariokas’ bedroom, knocking lightly and hearing two voices calling for him to come in. He pushed open the door to find Yamada sitting up in bed, his body propped up on a mountain of pillows, his face a mess of bruises, one eye swollen completely shut, the other a slit on his face, His lips were busted, jawline bruised all along the left side of his face, and he had a long gash on his forehead that had been stitched up. He had been tucked into bed by someone, his blankets pulled up to his shoulders, his arms by his side, everything from his collar down hidden by fabric, but he didn’t move when Keito came in, and judging on the state of his face he had to be just barely conscious.

Yuto was sitting at the foot of his bed, his bad leg propped up on the mattress, and he’d been speaking quietly to their housemate, but when Keito came in he looked up and treated Keito to a small smile, saying

“I was just telling Yama-chan that Yabu woke up.” In response to that Yamada blinked, and treated the two of them to the barest hint of a smile. Keito sat down next to Yuto, listening as Yuto told Yamada all about how Yabu looked, and acted, and how he was going to be up and out of bed in no time. It was sweet, the way Yuto talked, as if Yamada had nothing to worry about. As if everything was going to be just fine. Yamada’s eyes fluttered shut after only a few minutes, and Keito and Yuto both stood up, Keito helping his friend hobble out of the room, the two of them in the hall when Yuto turned into Keito’s chest, wrapping his arms around Keito’s shoulders, and he asked, sounding exhausted

“Is it over now? Can we relax yet? I just...I just am so fucking tired of this bullshit. I just want everything to be okay again.” Keito hugged him back, wishing he could tell Yuto everything he wanted to hear, but all he could do was say quietly

“I’m sorry. I don’t know.”


	33. Chapter 33

The next few days passed relievingly quietly, everyone drained from that Wednesday’s events. They could taste the stress in the air, filling in the gaps between conversations during the day. And Keito could hear the distress at night, as one by one they would all be torn from fitful sleep by nightmares, left staring into the dark as the imprint of flames faded from their eyes, and they gasped for air, hearts pounding in their chests. Keito himself would drift between Hikaru’s bed and his own, always telling himself that a change in location would help him sleep. It never did. It would be better, Keito thought, if there was any certainty about the outcome of the Wakaba massacre, but they still didn’t know if Ichinojo was dead. If the war was over. And while they’d been told he’d pull through, not being able to see Takaki prevented full confidence that Takaki was really going to be okay.

Every morning Hikaru called the hospital, and every evening he called again, and every time he’d hang up the phone and sit still, his face stony, before deflating with a long sigh, shoulders drooping. It happened like that every time twice a day for the first three days. It was on the fourth day—Keito and Hikaru the first ones in the kitchen, Keito feeding Hikaru breakfast in between sentences—when instead of his face falling into a blank professionalism Hikaru’s whole body came alive, an electricity in his movements as he spoke. And although Keito already knew what Hikaru was going to say, it was a huge relief to hear the words fall from his lips when he turned, his eyes wide with excitement as he announced

“Takaki is stable enough for visitors. They said that because he’s on serious pain medication he probably won’t really be awake, and we can’t stay too long, but his last two surgeries went well, and we can go see him.” The relief on Hikaru’s face was overwhelming, and Keito could feel it rushing through his own body, so happy to have something to celebrate, to liven everyone up, that he stood from where he’d been eating his breakfast and wrapped his arms around Hikaru’s shoulders. Hikaru squeezed him tight in his arms, breathing out a quiet _'Thank god.'_ Keito pulled away, Hikaru’s energy contagious, and he declared

“I’ll go tell the others. We need to get ready to go. We have to see him!” Hikaru nodded, and Keito was already halfway up the stairs when he paused, turning around and pointing at his boyfriend, saying seriously “Don’t you try and get dressed yourself. I saw the blisters on your hands last night. I’ll be right back.” At his stern tone Hikaru nodded, a small affectionate smile splitting his face, and it made Keito feel good, smiling back before turning and crashing up the stairs hastily, already calling for Yuto as he went. Keito found his roommate sitting up with Inoo and Yabu in Inoo’s bedroom, the three of them all sitting around Takaki’s bed, in which Yabu was still confined, propped up on some pillows, all three of them still in their pajamas, hair ruffled from having just gotten out of bed.

Upon the news that Takaki was finally stable enough for visitors both Inoo and Yuto got to their feet, and Inoo declared

“I’m going to see him.”

“Can you make it?” Yabu asked, and Keito was glad that the older man had asked, because while he too was concerned about Inoo’s health—Inoo hadn’t walked any further than town, and while that had been a full week prior, the hospital was twice that distance—he didn’t want to be the one to question it, afraid that he’d offend the other man. Inoo just shrugged, seeming unaffected by the possibility of him collapsing in the street.

“I have to. I need to see him.” Yabu met Keito’s eyes, concern in his gaze, and Keito just shrugged, not able to explain Inoo’s actions without a long discussion about Keito’s speculations involving a romantic relationship between Takaki and Inoo; something he was sure Inoo would not appreciate. Instead, he just said

“I’ll make sure he gets there okay Yabu.” That seemed to be enough for their second in command, the older man nodding, his eyes trusting, and Keito turned to go, saying “I have to tell the Ariokas, and Chinen.”

“I’m going to go get dressed.” Yuto said, limping out of the room behind Keito, and when they were in the hall Keito asked

“Will you be okay, doing all that walking?” Yuto shrugged.

“Probably. I’ll bring my cane just in case.” Keito nodded, relieved. He’d forgotten about the cane Hikaru had given Yuto to use when they’d gone to Ryutaro’s funeral. With that for support Yuto would truly probably be okay for this trip, which lifted a layer of stress from Keito’s shoulders. He couldn’t carry both Inoo and Yuto. Keito found Daiki and Yamada in their room, Daiki sitting up in bed, while his husband slept. Yamada was still bruised, and he had stitches running down his chest and right leg, and while the swelling in his face had gone down, he most definitely wasn’t going to be out of bed for another week or two. Still, when Daiki heard the news about Takaki he broke out into a relieved smile, a few curses falling breathily from his lips, and after a long moment he asked

“Is everyone going to go see him?”

“Everyone who can. Not Yabu; but Inoo and Yuto both want to come, and Hikaru and I were planning on going. I still haven’t found Chinen yet to tell him, but he probably will. Why?”

“Someone needs to stay here with Yabu and Ryosuke, just in case they need something. They can’t get out of their beds.” He was right, Keito realized. They couldn’t just leave Yamada and Yabu all alone in the house by themselves. Daiki glanced down at his sleeping husband, brushing his bangs from his face, and he said “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? We could talk to Hikaru, I know you want to see Takaki.” Keito offered. Daiki shook his head.

“It’s fine Keito. Look, Yuto and Inoo haven’t seen any of Takaki’s injuries, they have no idea what state he’s in, and they need to see him. Chinen has been literally worrying himself sick, and the Kumi-cho has to go. And the Kumi-cho is going to need your support, even if he doesn’t say so. I’ll stay. Besides, even if I did go I would worry about Ryosuke the entire time I was gone. I’m the logical choice.” Keito nodded, Daiki’s reasoning startlingly solid, and the older man leaned back into his bed, gesturing to the door. “You should go find Chinen, and tell him. He’s going to be happy.”

Chinen was happy. Keito caught him coming out of the shower, the smaller man exiting the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his hair damp and half in his face. When he told the former leader that they could go and see Takaki his whole body relaxed, shoulders slumping, head bowed. When he looked back up at Keito his eyes were shining with unshed tears, and his voice was soft as he murmured

“Thank goodness.”

“We’re going to go see him today. Daiki is going to stay with Yamada and Yabu, but everyone else has started getting ready to go to the hospital.” Keito told him, and he wanted to do something, to comfort Chinen somehow, but he didn’t know what to do, and Chinen nodded, straightening up and brushing his hair out of his eyes, declaring with much more confidence than he’d displayed seconds earlier

“Good. I’ll put on some clothes, and then we can go.”

“Sounds good.” Keito said, and Chinen nodded, heading toward Yabu’s bedroom, where he’d been sleeping ever since Ryutaro had died. Keito watched him go, wondering for a moment just what Chinen was going to do once Yabu was well enough to go back to his own room. If Chinen would ever go back into the room he’d once shared with Ryutaro. He sighed, and pushed the thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time for those thoughts. He needed to go downstairs, and help Hikaru get dressed. They were going to go and see Takaki. A new smile tugged on his lips at that thought. They were going to go and see Takaki. Fuck. Yes.

It took a while to get both himself and Hikaru all ready to go, Keito still insisting that he do almost everything for his leader himself, Hikaru’s hands still looking painfully raw, the blisters on his palms doing nothing but get bigger. They’d called the hospital about it, but they’d been told not to pop them if they could avoid it, and as a result Hikaru’s hands were near useless, thick yellow blisters swelling up in the joints of his fingers keeping them from bending. And so Keito helped him shower, and dressed his hands, brushed his teeth and got him clothed, and Hikaru was past protesting after the first few days, instead just thanking Keito quietly, and if they were alone he would press a kiss to Keito’s cheek or lips.

It wasn’t long after they were both dressed that the five of them able to go were out the door, Chinen leading the way, while Keito fell into step with Yuto at the back of their group, the older man starting out the journey at a surprisingly brisk pace, Keito hoping that perhaps it was a sign he was really starting to be back to his old self. As they got closer and closer to the hospital however, both Yuto and Inoo really started to fall behind, Yuto’s limp becoming more heavily pronounced, while Inoo’s breathing simply got more labored, his feet dragging. It wasn’t until Hikaru proposed that he carry Inoo the last few blocks that Keito stepped in—Hikaru didn’t need to be trying to pick anyone up with his hands in the state they were in—and so he picked Inoo up, carrying him piggyback the last few streets, Inoo insisting on getting off and walking on his own once the hospital came into view.

It took some explaining once they got there to assure the hospital staff that they weren’t patients. Between Hikaru’s bandaged hands, Yuto’s limp, and Inoo’s weakness they looked like a truly ragged group. But then one of the nurses recognized them—a lady Keito had talked to frequently, back when he would accompany Shoon for his regular checkups—and she took them to the burn ward, showing them to Takaki’s room. They all paused outside the door, and after a few long moments Hikaru said

“We should go in a few at a time. No need to overwhelm him. Besides, they said over the phone that we can’t stay long. Just a few minutes each.” His words were met with nods, Chinen already reaching for the door knob as he said

“I’ll go first.”

“You too Kumi-cho.” Keito said, catching Hikaru’s eye and gesturing for him to follow. Hikaru nodded, setting his jaw, face serious, and the two of them entered the room, while Keito led Inoo and Yuto over to a row of seats pressed up against the wall, both of the other men collapsing into them, visibly relieved to be off their feet. They sat in silence; fatigue on their part and anxiety about what they would see behind that door on Keito’s kept any words lodged, unable to move past his throat. Time stretched blankly forward in the silence, Keito counting tiles on the floor as he listened to Inoo’s heavy breathing and the rustle of their clothes as they shifted in their seats. He checked his watch. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Yuto sighed, resting his head on Keito’s shoulder. Finally, twelve minutes later Hikaru and Chinen came out of the room, gesturing for them to go in.

Both Keito and Yuto got to their feet, but Inoo stayed in his spot on the bench, and he said

“You two go. I want...I want to spend some time alone with him. I’ll wait my turn.” Keito nodded, and he and Yuto swapped places with Hikaru and Chinen, Keito holding his breath as he passed through the door, and into Takaki’s room. Takaki was hooked up to a lot of wires, machines of all sorts clustered around his bed. A heart monitor beeping reassuringly amongst the group. Takaki himself was lying on top of his sheets, just about his entire body wrapped in bandages, with casts on his forearm and thigh, tubes running out from underneath the bandages in multiple places. He had oxygen tubes coming from his nostrils, and his eyes were closed, chest rising and falling steadily in sleep.

His left arm, the one that hadn’t been burned, wasn’t bandaged, but it still had stitches running most of the way down, a few IVs stuck in his arm there at the end of the long line of sutures. At first glance things looked even worse than Keito remembered; he hadn’t been expecting the left side of Takaki’s body to be getting much attention, under the impression that his right side was the only side that had gotten hurt. His face at least, looked unscathed, his long hair splayed out across his pillow out of his eyes. Keito just stood there at the edge of Takaki’s bed, afraid to reach out, afraid to touch him, and instead he just watched the older man’s chest rise and fall, comfort in the consistency of it.

He and Yuto didn’t talk really, the two of them just standing there side by side, taking it all in, processing Takaki’s body there in the bed, the implications that being bandaged from the chest down entailed. Still, despite that it was a relief to lay eyes on him. To look at him and not see charred skin peeling off of glistening muscle. It was after a few minutes of silence that Yuto finally asked

“Does he look better to you?” His voice was low and quiet, serious, and Keito nodded.

“Yeah.” Yuto nodded back, his face not giving away any of his feelings.

“Okay.”

They were only in there for another minute or two before Yuto sighed, pulling himself up to full stature, taking some of his weight off of the cane and back onto his two feet, and Keito took that as the signal that it was time to go, glancing back one last time before he followed Yuto out the door. The other three all looked up as they came back out into the hallway, Inoo standing up and making his way over, Keito holding the door open for him, able to see Inoo’s body trembling with fatigue. He was going to be carrying Inoo home, he could already tell. With that thought in mind he plopped down on the row of chairs the rest of his housemates were all crammed on, squeezing in on the end with Hikaru, slipping his hand in between their bodies, offering it up. Hikaru laid his own hand in Keito’s, palm up so as to not bother his burns, Keito running his thumb over Hikaru’s knuckles in slow circles in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture.

Inoo was in Takaki’s room for about ten minutes, and as soon as he came out Keito went to his side, wrapping one arm around Inoo’s waist. Inoo looked over at him with wide, wet eyes, his cheeks tear stained, his whole body trembling. Keito just sighed, pulling Inoo close, and Inoo’s breath came out in a whine in his ear. They exited the hospital almost comically, a few people staring at them as their little group hobbled out, and as soon as they were around the corner Keito pulled Inoo onto his back, able to tell just how exhausted he was. It was a long trek back to the house, and he could feel Inoo’s fatigue.

It took over an hour to get home, Yuto himself shaking and falling behind, despite his cane. And Hikaru fell in at his side, Chinen leading the pack as the sun arched across the sky, Keito following the smaller man, his eyes on Chinen’s back. Once they arrived at the house, everyone made for their bedrooms; Keito helping Inoo into bed, Yabu awake and watching from over the top of the book he’d been reading. Inoo rolled over and fell asleep almost instantly, and it was once he was definitely asleep that Yabu asked, voice quiet

“How is Takaki? Did he look good?” Keito shrugged.

“He looked...alive. I mean, he was definitely better than Wednesday.” Keito sat down on the edge of Yabu’s bed by his feet, and he sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. Trying to tell Yabu what he wanted to hear. To be honest, without getting emotional. “He was burned all over here—” Keito gestured to the areas on his own body. “—and it looked really bad. Worse than Hikaru’s burns. Today he was all bandaged up, so I couldn’t really tell what the burns looked like, but he was breathing regularly. They had him on oxygen, and he was asleep.” Keito paused, biting at his lip, and he glanced over at the older man, seeing serious concern in his eyes, and he offered “I do think he’ll be okay. He’ll live.”

Yabu nodded, and he sighed, saying a quiet thanks before turning back to his book, looking just as weary as Keito felt. He wandered back down the stairs, to find Daiki in the kitchen, standing over the stove, cooking. Daiki nodded at him in greeting, waving him over and sitting him down in a chair, before placing a bowl of curry rice down in front of him with a spoon, saying quietly

“Eat. You’ll feel better.” Keito blinked up at him in surprise, but he murmured a quick thanks, finding once he started eating that he was quite hungry. He ate three helpings, Daiki preparing another bowl and offering “You should take this to the Kumi-cho. He looked like he was...stressed when you guys got in, and he shut his office door.” Keito nodded, rather touched by Daiki’s thoughtfulness, and he took the bowl, knocking softly on Hikaru’s door. It took a couple of seconds for Hikaru to respond, and when he did Keito found him curled up at his desk, phone cradled between his shoulder and ear, one hand hovering by his cell, the other lying on his desk, palm up.

He looked rather engrossed in his phone call, and Keito tried to stay quiet, Hikaru’s eyes flicking up to him just as Keito set the bowl down on his desk. He didn’t say anything, but he smiled just a little, and Keito leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, before turning away, letting Hikaru get back to work. Now was not the time for interruptions. He would check in with Hikaru tonight. Curl up with him in bed and make out until they fell asleep all wrapped around each other. Keito needed the release. They both did. But not now. He could wait.


	34. Chapter 34

Keito left Hikaru alone for the rest of the afternoon, and instead he went up to his own bedroom he shared with Yuto, finding his friend digging around in the dresser, Yuto asking when Keito came in

“Hey, d’you think you could help me? I want to take a shower.”

“Of course. What do you need me to do?” Yuto smiled, reaching over and slinging an arm around Keito’s shoulder, leaning on him a little as a straightened back up, and he said

“Knew I could count on you. I just need some help getting in and out of the shower, and if you could sit in the bathroom with me just to make sure I don’t slip and die that would be great.” Keito nodded and Yuto’s smile grew. He pointed for the door, and Keito wrapped an arm around his waist, able to see just how much Yuto was struggling, his leg obviously bothering him, and he offered

“D’you want me to just carry you there?” Yuto scoffed at the offer, and Keito dropped it. It wasn’t that far to the bathroom anyway, just down the hall. They made it in a mess of uneven strides, Yuto pushing the toilet lid closed and plopping down, sighing as he began stripping off his clothes. Keito turned away, starting the shower and adjusting the temperature, and as soon as he declared it ready Yuto hopped in, Keito reaching out to help him, but Yuto swatted his hands away, saying

“Don’t worry so much. I usually do this by myself; I just didn’t want to take any chances and freak you guys out if I hurt myself today. Everyone’s stressed enough what with Takaki looking like a mummy and all. That hospital visit took a little more out of me than I was anticipating.”

“Okay.” Keito conceded, sitting on the toilet lid and gathering up Yuto’s clothes from the floor, folding them and setting them aside so his friend wouldn’t step on them when he got out of the shower. He sat back, leaning against the tank of the toilet as he listened to Yuto hum quietly to himself, the steam from the shower and the sounds of the water calming, and he sighed, feeling his body relax and losing track of time. When Yuto turned the shower off the abrupt silence snapped him back to focus, and he sat up and passed Yuto a towel, Yuto drying off before the two of them made back for the bedroom.

The shower seemed to have done Yuto’s muscles some good, and he walked more or less on his own back to their bedroom, and it was there that he dropped the towel he’d wrapped around his waist, and Keito got the first chance to look at Yuto’s leg in a while. He gestured to it, Yuto just nodding and extending his leg out, offering it out to Keito, and Keito leaned down, tentatively running his fingers over Yuto’s skin. His leg was swollen still, though the swelling was significantly less than it had been right after he’d come home, and the entry wound was fully scarred over, a round divot of dark pink skin. The exit point on the front of his thigh wasn’t fully healed, some scabbing still covering the center of it, but the majority of it was scarred over, shiny and pink.

“That part isn’t what hurts anymore.” Yuto told him, as Keito looked over the wounds, and Keito looked up at him, Yuto grabbing hold of the dresser for balance as he raised his leg up higher, gesturing to his foot. “It’s really just nerve and ligament damage at this point. I still can’t feel much in my foot at all, and sometimes I get pain that just comes out of nowhere, but it’s mostly in my foot and ankle. And the swelling, but...” He sighed, putting his foot back on the ground and going through his drawers, slipping on some clothes as he talked. “Those things might not ever change, so I’ve just gotta get my strength and mobility back, and then I’ll be as close to good as I’m ever gonna get.” He sighed, flopping backwards onto his bed, and muttered “It sucks.”

Keito had heard that specific round of self pity before, and he flopped down on the bed next to Yuto, throwing an arm over Yuto’s chest and giving him a tight half hug, Yuto groaning dramatically as Keito squeezed him. But when Keito looked up to see his face Yuto was smiling.

“Hey, Daiki made curry. Wanna go downstairs and eat?” Keito offered, trying to distract from the rather melancholic mood, realizing that Yuto hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Yuto perked up at the mention of food, and he sat up, enthusiasm seeping into his words as he said

“Fuck yes. Let’s go.”

It was two days later, and Keito and Hikaru were sitting down at the table for lunch, Hikaru in the middle of trying to insist that since the blisters on his hands were going down he really could feed himself—when Chinen and Daiki burst through the front door, chests heaving, eyes wild. The two of them had gone to visit Takaki in the hospital early that morning, and their return was expected. But the panic and rage on Daiki’s face, and the numb shock on Chinen’s sent a jolt of dread coursing through Keito. Something had happened. It was Daiki who spoke first, the words rushing past his lips through gasping breaths.

“Kumi-cho! The Wakaba—” It was then that through the open door there were the unmistakable sounds of gunshots off in the distance, and Keito’s stomach clenched in a sickeningly familiar way, his jaw setting, and he stood up, Hikaru already on his feet next to him, already asking

“Where are they?”

“The underlings.” Chinen barked out, and the knot in Keito’s stomach grew a little tighter, but it wasn’t as panic inducing as it would have been a few months before, so numb to violence as he was by now. His body on autopilot he made for the stairs, the words already halfway out of his mouth before he froze.

“I’ll go get the others—” He turned, realizing in an instant that there wasn’t anyone else to get. Everyone that was well enough to fight was standing in that room, dwindled down to the four of them, and he caught Hikaru’s eye as his leader barked out

“Let’s GO!” Daiki and Chinen were still just barely inside the door, and as such they were the first ones out, turning and running back into the alley without a second glance. Keito followed them, feet pounding on the pavement, his heart picking up in his chest. This was revenge. This was retribution for what they had done. What he had done. The Wakaba were all supposed to have died that night the Heisei Kumi had burned their base down. They were supposed to have ended then. But they didn’t, mistakes had been made and the plans had fallen to shit. And now the underling boys—the boys that they’d been desperately trying to protect, to keep safe and out of the mess the war was escalating to—were paying the price. And from the sound of things, paying with their lives.

Keito glanced over at Hikaru as the older man caught up with him, his mind racing, guilt pitting itself in his stomach as he came to the conclusion that this was at least in part their fault. Their recklessness had triggered this, he couldn’t help but feel. Recklessness had gotten them hurt—Takaki, covered in burns in the hospital; Yamada, still bedridden, and Hikaru too. Hikaru’s hands were still covered in bandages, still raw and blistered, and Keito knew that he was in pain, but he showed no sign of it as they ran toward the underling housing, and Keito felt a spike of fear ring through him as the gunshots got louder. Because what they were headed toward had the potential to rip Hikaru away from him in an instant. He could already taste death in the air, and it set his hair on end like an electric current.

They hadn’t even caught sight of anyone with a gun before they stumbled across the first body. Daiki dropped to his knees by the boy’s head, Keito catching sight of his face and feeling his stomach sink. It was one of the Kaitos, his eyes wide and unseeing, mouth open in a silent scream, his chest blown open, blood staining the street. They all had started to falter at the sight of the dead young man, but then an ear splitting crack rang through the air and Hikaru said

“No time for this. Leave him.” He pulled one of his handguns from his waistband, and he didn’t look back, Keito only checking to make sure Daiki had gotten back to his feet before he pushed on. They passed another dead boy—this one smaller, shot in the head, his body slumped up against the side of a building—before the first Wakaba member came into view. It was Fukushi Sota, his back to them, a third dead boy at his feet, pistol in his hand. There was no hesitation in Hikaru’s hands, and he shot Fukushi twice in the chest, the taller man falling to the ground, Hikaru walking closer and sinking a third bullet into his brain.

Fukushi had been standing at the entrance to the main street that the underling boys lived on, and when he fell the four of them finally got a good look at the destruction. It was startling just how many bodies were in the street, everything stark in the bright sunshine, blood wet and shining against the pavement. Keito’s eyes swept the area, but he didn’t truly register just how many dead there were, the sight just inducing in him a rush of rage before more gunshots cracked through the air, biting the pavement and buildings around them, and they ducked behind the nearest corner for cover. Keito cursed, his eyes going to his companions, and he was relieved to see that while they were all wide eyed, none appeared hurt.

This was no fight, Keito realized, looking around at the mass of boys still out there, some trying to throw punches, some trying to hide, to find safety. This was a massacre. Life or death, them or us. This was the end. One side wasn’t walking out of this confrontation alive, for one simple reason; Keito knew he and his housemates weren’t going to let the Wakaba get away with this. Either the Wakaba would all die for this, or Keito and his housemates would die, trying to make them pay. Before this moment he would have never believed that the Wakaba could somehow win this war after their base and most of their members had gone up in smoke. But now, with what had to be at least fifteen underlings lying on the pavement, unmoving, blood everywhere, and gunshots still ringing in his ears, Keito found that he wasn’t so sure. The fire must have strengthened their enemies resolve, or perhaps burnt out any humanity they had left in them.

There was a high pitched screech, and Keito glanced over toward the source of the noise, and saw across the street, a group of underling boys—Keito recognized Hokuto, and Kishi, as well as Matsukura Kaito amongst them—circling Shidai Mirai, the Wakaba member’s eyes wide and crazed, a handgun clutched in her outstretched hand. Keito could tell the boys were trying to get closer, trying to figure out what to do, and he moved out into the street and pointed his gun at her, cocking it with his thumb, but he realized that he was much more likely to hit an underling than their attacker, and took his finger off the trigger. She meanwhile seemed to have seen Hikaru kill her companion, her eyes catching on Keito’s face, and she whirled around, aiming her gun and pointedly pulling the trigger point blank at one of the underlings, Matsukura Kaito falling to the ground.

Anger and grief flared inside Keito’s chest, and he ran out across the street, Daiki with him, the two of them joining the underlings around Shidai Mirai, as the crack of gunfire boomed deafeningly around them. Keito had to step over a couple of boys as he ran, and his stomach lurched, but his fury kept him moving. Daiki got to Shidai first, throwing all caution to the wind, and with a roar like a wild animal the older man threw himself at the Wakaba girl, tackling her as she fumbled with her gun, pulling the trigger haphazardly as she yelled, no aim to her trigger happy finger, most of her shots going out up over their heads. The underlings dispersed, many of them spattered in blood, eyes frantic and terrified, leaving Keito and Daiki to deal with her, the panic on their faces saying more than any words could.

Keito wrenched Shidai’s gun out of her hand as soon as he got within reach, kicking it away and grabbing at her kicking legs, holding her down as Daiki punched her, blood spraying across his face and arms. She scrambled against him, yelling shrilly, cursing and screaming, hands wet with blood as she clawed at Daiki’s skin. Around them there were screams and the sounds of fighting and gunfire, Keito glancing up to see Hikaru kicking a Wakaba member in the chest, one of his glocks in one hand, a long cut on his cheek. Keito’s attention was stolen when behind Hikaru little Kitagawa Takumi’s neck was snapped by another Wakaba attacker, the small boy falling limply to the pavement.

The sight made something in Keito snap, and he moved to go toward the man that had killed Takumi, a determination and cold blooded ruthlessness washing over him that was something terrible and powerful. But it was then that Shidai kicked out harshly, catching him in the face, bringing him back to where he was, and he gripped Shidai’s legs even tighter, holding her down with all of his strength as his rage rolled through his veins. Eventually Shidai went still, Daiki standing up, Keito letting his grip go lax, getting one glance at her swollen, bruised and bloody face, before Daiki put his handgun to her forehead and pulled the trigger. Keito didn’t get time to entertain any feelings about that, a hand grabbing at his foot.

He kicked at it automatically, pointing his gun at the disturbance, before glancing down to realize that it was Matsukura, the young man still alive, and he cursed, dropping to his knees, letting his Sig Sauer slip from his fingers as he pressed his hands to the underling’s stomach, where blood was running thick and hot from his gunshot wound. Matsukura was breathing light and fast, and Keito didn’t even bother with any attempt at comforting him, instead just putting pressure on the wound, ignoring the scream that rang out unbidden from the kid’s lips, and he shouted for someone to come and help him, Daiki already off into the fray.

He didn’t want to leave the boy unattended, not wanting to risk Matsukura dying because of him. Because he walked away. But he was equally afraid that the longer he sat there trying to save one kid—one kid that might not make it anyway—more were going to die. His eyes flicked up, looking for the man that had snapped a child’s neck. He wanted to rejoin the fight. Wanted to punish these people that were killing their boys. He heard a shout of

“Kaito!” And he looked up to see another young man rushing toward them. It was Matsukura’s friend, the boy he’d told Keito that he’d lent his knife to, back in that fight in January. Genta. He had that wide eyed paling terror on his face that most of the boys had, and he had a busted lip, and one of his arms was bleeding, his front smeared in what appeared to he someone else’s blood. He already had tears glistening in his eyes when he fell to his knees on the other side of Matsukura’s body, and Matsukura reached for him, Genta taking his hand and squeezing it tightly, his mouth open as if to speak, but no words came out.

“Put your hands here.” Keito barked out the order, his mind racing, and Genta stared at him for a moment. “Now! He’s your friend, isn’t he?” Genta nodded, and after a moment he spoke.

“He’s my—he’s everything.” Genta told Keito, his voice shaky and full of fear. Keito nodded, trying to to dwell on that too much. Trying not to cynically think that he was just going to be leaving Genta to watch the man he loved die in his arms. “You have to slow the bleeding. Keep him alive until this is fucking over.”

“C’mon Genta.” Kaito said weakly, and the fact that he could speak made Keito feel a little more assured that maybe he would make it through. It seemed to be Matsukura’s voice that did it, Genta nodding and reaching over, placing his hands where Keito’s had been, Keito pulling his own away, wiping the blood—so thick and slick and red—onto his jeans and picking up his gun from the pavement. Genta was crying again, murmuring something quietly to Matsukura, but Keito didn’t hear him. He caught sight of the man he’d seen kill Kitagawa Takumi. That man had Nasu Yuto by the throat now, and Keito didn’t think twice before raising his gun, taking aim, and pulling the trigger.


	35. Chapter 35

Keito felt the bullet leave his gun, felt the kickback in his arm as almost instantaneously the Wakaba bastard let go of Nasu and fell to his knees. Keito ran toward them, relieved to see Nasu Yuto pulling himself to a sitting position, taking in big, gasping breaths, his chest heaving. Keito yelled for him to go, to run, and the Wakaba guy turned his head to see who had shot him, blood seeping through his pants, running in wet trails down his leg. Keito shot at him again, and the man slumped, body hitting the street. Keito moved closer to see that he had been hit in the shoulder, his blood beginning to pool on the pavement. Keito walked near, trying to identify the man, but he didn’t recognize his face.

There were still gunshots ringing through the alley, deafening, and Keito couldn’t help the shiver of fear that ran through him as he wondered just how many Wakaba there were left alive. As soon as Keito was close enough he yelled at the Wakaba man, his gun trained on his face.

“How many of you are there?!” The man was pale, his face scrunched up in pain, and he didn’t respond to Keito’s question, his chest rising and falling rapidly, breathing shallow. Keito kicked at him, and the guy grabbed at Keito’s leg with clawing hands, tugging harshly and pulling him off balance, sending him to his knees sprawled on top of the Wakaba bastard. Keito yelped in surprise and shoved at the man, one hand still gripping his gun. He screamed in pain, but his wounds didn’t stop him from reaching up for Keito’s throat with bloody hands, wet fingers wrapping themselves around Keito’s neck as Keito tried to get his bearings.

Keito felt the hands contracting, constricting his breathing, and he felt a fresh wave of panic hit him like a brick wall. He leveled his pistol at the man and fired, not caring where he hit him. With a cry the hands fell away, and Keito threw himself backward, putting distance between them before he scrambled to his feet, chest heaving, the man’s blood on his neck and chest, and staining the knees of his jeans. This third bullet seemed to have hit the same shoulder the second had, and the Wakaba guy made no effort to get to his feet. Keito took a few gulping breaths, trying to think clearly, the adrenaline in his system making him feel restless.

He trained his gun on the Wakaba man’s face, and he whimpered wetly, his blood staining the pavement around him as his eyes fluttered shut, as if expecting the inevitable.

“Where’s Ichinojo? Is he alive?!” Keito asked, voice hard with anger and hatred. The man said nothing, and when Keito kicked him this time he didn’t respond, his body lolling heavily on the ground, no resistance, nothing but weight. Keito stared at him for a long moment before realizing almost numbly that the man was dead. Keito looked down at him for a second, lowering his gun, surprised by the empty nothingness he felt at that realization. But then there was the high pitched shriek of a boy screaming in pain, and his attention was immediately diverted. He turned his head, looking away.

It was Inoue Mizuki, and he was lying on the ground, his hand clutching at his leg, blood running in big drops and thick trails down his skin, coating his hands in red. Keito moved to help him, looking for the cause of his injury, but there weren’t any Wakaba near the boy. He seemed to be pretty out of the way honestly, and Keito was bewildered, rushing over and crouching down over the teen, asking if he could see what had happened. To see the injury that the boy was covering with his hands. Mizuki shook his head and whimpered, tears rolling thick and hot down his cheeks, panic in his eyes, and Keito stuffed his gun into the waistband of his jeans, before reaching down and scooping the boy up, hauling him into the air, pulling him to his chest.

Mizuki let out another scream of pain, but no one seemed to notice, with the sounds of gunfire and yells ringing through the air. Keito cursed, walking steadily around the back of a building, where he found a group of boys hiding, crouched down low to the ground. Keito set Inoue down next to those boys, and they immediately moved to crowd around him, Keito getting back down on his knees and prying at the kid’s hands, physically pulling them away from his leg, trying to see what exactly had happened. The boys around them just hovered, wide eyed, little noises of panic and fear falling from trembling mouths until Keito barked for someone to hold Inoue still, as he was fighting Keito, telling him to just let him be, leave him alone.

It was only once there were multiple pairs of hands holding him still that Mizuki’s hands could be removed from his own leg, and Keito got a chance to see the deep track of flesh that had been ripped away, a stray bullet obviously having torn through his calf, a clean strip of skin and muscle scooped away, revealing wet, red muscle and a hint of white bone underneath, everything bathed in blood. Keito sat back on his knees, pulling the white tank top he was wearing up over his head and wrapping it around Mizuki’s calf. As he worked he asked the crowd of boys

“What happened? When did the Wakaba show up?” His quarry was met with silence. Mizuki squeezed his eyes shut and screwed his face up and Keito tied the ends of his tank top together, Mizuki slumping against the side of the building, a new pair of hands coming to meet Keito’s own, putting pressure on the wound.

“I don’t know, Prince.” One boy finally said, his voice trembling. “It felt like a long time before you showed up, but—“

“It probably was only about fifteen minutes.” Another kid offered. The first boy nodded. Keito felt a lump rise in his throat. All of those boys dead in fifteen minutes.

“We were just going about normal stuff, when they showed up from over there.” He pointed in the general direction of Wakaba territory.

“We-we didn’t have time to react.” A third boy offered. “They just started shooting. Whoever was closest was killed. There was no chance to defend ourselves. At first people were coming out of their buildings to see what was going on. Most who tried to fight were shot. Eventually...we just ran and hid.”

“I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die like Inoue-kun!” A small boy said, and Mizuki cracked his eyes open at that, looking at the boy, and Keito said quickly

“Inoue isn’t going to die.” He looked the boys over. Most of these kids seemed to be relatively blood free. It was relieving, and for a moment the knot in Keito’s chest relaxed a little, only for it to tighten up moments later when there was the crack of gunfire, cutting through the conversation. “How many Wakaba were there?” He asked quickly, pushing himself to his feet and wiping more blood into his jeans before pulling his gun out of his waistband. He looked it over, checking that it was cocked, thinking about the bullets left in the magazine grimly, as a kid said

“At least ten I think? Ten...to fifteen. I’m so sorry Prince—I didn’t think to count.” Keito nodded, his heart pounding in his ears, and he thought over just how many must be left. He’d seen three die, so that hopefully only left seven or so to go. That would mean that he and his housemates were still outnumbered, but with any luck some of the underlings would manage to take down at least one Wakaba member. In the distance he heard Daiki’s signature roar of rage, and it pushed him to action, turning to the kids one last time as he said sternly

“You boys stay safe. Don’t try to help. All I want from you is to just not die. Understood?”

“Yes, Prince.” Fell meekly from worry-bitten lips. About half of the boys had responded, words subservience, nods of understanding meeting his gaze. The other half just looked up at him, eyes wide with a blank fear. Keito swallowed the lump of paralyzing worry in his throat that this was the last time he’d see any of these kids breathing, and he ran out around the building, back toward the frey. In the time that he had been with Inoue more boys had fallen to the pavement, dead or hurt or unconscious. After Keito glanced down and found himself looking into the horrifyingly blank stare of Uchimura Sota, he tried not to look at the bodies in the street. Looking wouldn’t help him now. He could look once it was all over.

He moved toward the loudest sounds, a gunshot going off immediately to his left that diverted his attention from what Keito thought was Daiki fighting up ahead, and found himself stumbling over a body and rounding a corner to find another group of underlings huddled behind a building. This time however he was met with the sight of Kyomoto Taiga standing shoulder to shoulder with Matsumura Hokuto, an unfamiliar gun in Taiga’s hand, their faces sprayed in blood, Seto Koji’s body at their feet. Behind them Jesse was crouched over a very bloody and unsettlingly still Kouchi, but the other two in their usual group weren’t with them, and the absence of Shintaro and Juri made Keito uneasy.

“Where are the others?” He asked, his heart pounding in his throat. The words drew all three of the conscious underlings’ attentions, Their heads whipping up sharply, eyes big and wide.

“Stone Prince!” Taiga said, startled, his grip still tight on the gun in his hand. It was Hokuto however that gave him the answer he needed, raising a bloody, trembling hand and pointing off up ahead, saying quietly

“That Wakaba bastard. Shintaro, he—” His voice was weak and rough with fear, and Keito didn’t wait to hear any more, just nodding and pushing past Hokuto, walking right by Jesse, his eyes finding Kouchi’s chest despite himself, a note of relief hitting him when he noticed that the other man was still breathing. He could still hear the sounds of fighting, could feel something inside his chest pulling him toward the noise like a magnet, and he pressed on, through the buildings, mostly just finding young men and small boys trying to get away, to find safety. The once frequent sounds of gunshots ringing the air had become sporadic, and Keito found that when there was the sound of a shot going off it never seemed to come from the same place as another. And as minutes passed with no sight of Shintaro or Juri he found himself wandering the streets, looking for a fight.

He found Chinen first. Chinen was lying on the ground, his gun nowhere to be found, nose bleeding, bruises on his throat and fists, his arms and chest absolutely covered in blood, a switchblade clasped in his hand. His eyes were nearly closed, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly, and next to him lay a man Keito didn’t recognize, but he knew the man had to be a Wakaba, due to the grotesque burns on the man’s arms, big blisters—like the ones on Hikaru’s hands—puckered up from shiny red skin. The Wakaba man had been stabbed at least ten times, and from the look of things Chinen had gotten on top of him, stabbed him until he had been sure the man was dead, before rolling off of him, lying there on the pavement, no strength left to move.

Keito bent to see Chinen, to check if he was okay, but when he got close Chinen seemed to register him, and the smaller man pushed at him weakly with one hand and croaked out in a rough whisper

“Daiki.” He gestured to his right, and Keito tried to insist that Chinen be seen to, but Chinen kept pushing at him, shoving him away, and eventually Keito gave in. It didn’t take him long to find Daiki. He was covered in blood, his back up against a wall, a knife sticking out of his side, a dead man at his own feet as another assailant advanced on him. The sight made Keito’s insides freeze, and he didn’t do anything for a moment, until Daiki roared in pain and frustration, and that sound broke Keito out of his panic. He shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans and instead pulled out his butterfly knife, flicking it open with a snap of his wrist and running, leaping at the Wakaba man, throwing himself onto the enemy’s back, sinking his blade into the first bit of flesh he could reach.

The guy screamed in shock and pain, and he whirled on Keito, punching over his shoulder as he moved. His fist sunk into Keito’s throat before he was even facing Keito properly, a lucky shot that knocked Keito to the ground and left him gasping for air as pain bloomed hotly from where he’d been hit. Keito’s blade was clutched in his fist, and as a result it was torn from the man’s body, and Keito slashed out at him as he fought to breathe, one hand pushing at the pavement, trying to get himself to his feet, while the other brandished the knife wildly. It didn’t really deter the Wakaba man however, and he kicked out at Keito with his boots, hitting him in the stomach a few times.

Keito curled into a ball on impulse, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, forcing himself to look for a weakness, as he fought to breathe. Behind the Wakaba man he saw Daiki fall to his knees, both hands red with his own blood as he clutched at the knife that was still stuck in his side. He wouldn’t be able to fight anymore. It was just Keito and Hikaru left. If Hikaru was even still alive. And it was that realization that really forced Keito to act, the realization that by sheer circumstance he was maybe the only one left that could end this fucking war.

It was at that moment that the Wakaba man got closer and Keito reached out, moving as fast as he could, and he grabbed the Wakaba man’s leg as it kicked out at him once more, and he shoved his knife into the calf, feeling the blade hit bone as he sunk it in as far as it could go. He pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and punching the man in the face, before kicking at his injured leg, the man’s hand curling around Keito’s shoulder as he fell to the street, the force of him taking Keito down with him. Keito cursed, wildly scrambling, panic filling his lungs as he tried to get his bearings.

The man kneed him in the chest, and punched him in the side of his head, Keito’s vision going out for a few moments as his skull was bashed into the pavement. He tasted blood on his tongue, and his head pounded with pain, eyes unable to focus. The enemy was half on top of him, one fist curling into Keito’s long hair with a fierce determination, and he slammed Keito’s head into the street once more. But Keito groped for his gun as he tried to pry himself away from the Wakaba man, the tang of blood filling his nostrils as he pointed the gun at the man’s chest and pulled the trigger, hoping desperately that it would be enough.

He shot the man four times in rapid succession, his breaths coming in short bursts, his whole body trembling, exhausted from the fear. Exhausted from the realization at how close he had come to getting his head bashed in. He fought the urge to vomit as he rolled away from his assailant, trying to focus on Daiki, to get his world to stop spinning. Trying to get his breathing under control. This wasn’t over. He still had to help Daiki. He had to find Hikaru. He had to make sure that Ichinojo was dead; and if he wasn’t he had to kill him. He blinked a few times, trying to pull himself together, before pushing himself to his hands and knees and crawling over to Daiki, his head still spinning too much for anything more, blood running hotly down his temple.

The older man was still slumped against the wall, his hands clutching at his side, his body trembling. He was covered in blood, but when Keito came closer he looked up at him, and he said

“Sorry I couldn’t help. Used my last bullet on this bastard.” He nodded at the corpse lying next to him on the ground. “Fucking piece of shit.” Keito shook his head, immediately regretting that decision as a wave of nausea washed over him, and he sat up on his knees, hands hovering over Daiki’s body, wanting to help but not able to decide how to best go about it. Seeing that Daiki grimaced, his hands pressing a little more firmly at the wound in his side, fingers holding the blade in place as he spoke. “I’ll be fine Keito. Did you see Chinen? We got separated.” His voice held a barely contained fear, and Keito rushed to assure him, the words coming out as fast as he could make them, voice rough from his bruised throat

“I did. He’s alive. Too hurt to fight though. Killed a guy.” Keito gestured back toward the direction he’d come, and Daiki nodded, relief visible on his face. Keito opened his mouth to ask if Daiki knew anything about Hikaru when an underling boy came sprinting around a corner, wild panic in his movements, and Keito didn’t have time to react before there was the sharp crack of gunfire, and the boy fell to the pavement, body limp. The small respite they’d stolen was ripped away, and Keito felt his heart pounding in his chest, eyes wide and mind blank as he turned to see Wakaba Ichinojo bearing down on them, gun pointed right at the underling boy as he pulled the trigger.

In wild panic Keito reached for his own gun, only to realize that he’d left it two meters away, resting on the pavement by the Wakaba man he’d shot. His knife was there too, still embedded in the man’s leg, and Keito couldn’t help the choked, panicked understanding that this was it. This was how he was going to die. But then Ichinojo pulled the trigger of his pistol again, and nothing happened, and Keito realized with a jolt of relief that the other man was out of ammunition, and his heart soared in his chest. He dove for his gun, despite Ichinojo being closer to it, and the Wakaba man seemed to realize halfway through the action just what it was Keito was doing, and he threw his own pistol to the pavement and cursed, kicking out at Keito, foot connecting with Keito’s shoulder, shoving him back.

Keito pushed himself to his feet, lunging forward and throwing a punch at Ichinojo’s face, feeling the bastard’s nose break under his knuckles, and Ichinojo stumbled back, hand coming up automatically to the injury. But when Keito advanced on him Ichinojo kicked out, his heel hitting Keito square in the chin, Keito’s head snapping sharply back, pain wracking down his spine. He fell flat on his back, and he noticed his gun right at Ichinojo’s feet, and he threw himself at it again, knowing that this fight wouldn’t be won with fists. It would be won with bullets. But Ichinojo kicked the weapon away, and he stomped harshly on Keito’s head, smashing it into the pavement once more.

Keito let out a yelp of pain, Ichinojo cursing wildly, and Keito kicked up, one foot catching Ichinojo by the knee, and he forced him down, his own heartbeat roaring in his ears as he pushed himself up, throwing his body on top of Ichinojo’s. He could barely see, his vision spotty, but he threw punch after punch, as Ichinojo’s hands struggled on Keito’s blood slicked chest, trying to get him off. He could feel fresh blood on his hands, could smell it in the air, when Ichinojo managed to shove one knee out from under him, and he fell so he was on his hands over the Wakaba bastard.

Ichinojo quickly managed to wrestle Keito to the ground, and behind him he could hear Daiki screaming, but he couldn’t make out any words. All he could do was struggle as Ichinojo pinned him to the pavement and reached out over Keito’s head. Keito didn’t realize until it was too late that Ichinojo had grabbed his butterfly knife out of the dead Wakaba’s calf. Keito’s hands came up to protect his face and throat on reflex, his blade catching on his fingers in stinging waves of pain. Ichinojo punched him in the face, and followed up by whipping Keito’s blade across his chest, while Keito fought to maintain consciousness, feeling his body failing him.

Ichinojo adjusted his grip on the knife, lunging to stab Keito properly when a leather shoe kicked him in the side of the head, pushing him off of Keito and onto the pavement, and above him Keito heard Hikaru mutter, his voice pure rage

“Fucking cockroach just won’t fucking die.” Keito forced himself to look up, his eyes locking on Hikaru’s figure standing over him, the man he loved bloody, but on his feet and alive, his face contorted with rage, his left hand outstretched, one of his glocks grasped in red stained, bandaged fingers. He stepped over Keito, his eyes locked on Ichinojo’s face, and Ichinojo froze as the muzzle of Hikaru’s gun came to rest against his forehead. Ichinojo stared up at Hikaru with just as much loathing and bloodthirst as Hikaru had in his own face, and he growled out, his mouth red with his own blood

“Cockroach? You think you’re any better than me? You’re not. You’ve killed just as many. Tortured just as many. You brought this destruction upon yourself. Asked for this.” Hikaru snorted, unmoving. “We’re just the same.” Ichinojo insisted. “Don’t act like it isn’t true.” Hikaru let out a long exhale, everything still, and then he replied

“I can think of one difference between the two of us. I don’t have a hole in my head.” And with a crack, Ichinojo slumped to the pavement. Dead. There was a long silence, everything quiet, no one moving, before Hikaru threw his pistol to the pavement and fell to his knees at Keito’s side, voice high with fear

“Keito, it’s over. It’s over, okay? You’re going to be fine.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Keito, and Keito reached out for him, his trembling fingers meeting Hikaru’s own, and he felt Hikaru’s grip strong on his hand as he choked out

“You’re right. It’s over.” He fought to keep conscious, but he wanted to assure Hikaru, to let him know that he had done it. He had ended it. The war was over. The Wakaba were gone. And it was as the blackness finally crept in that he murmured, “We’re going to be just fine.”


	36. Chapter 36

Keito pursed his lips in concentration, eyes flicking over Yuto’s scarred, tattooed chest, the sweat on their bodies glistening, the summer sun painting them orange and gold to match the sky as it set between the city buildings. He threw a punch with his tattooed arm, and Yuto dodged it, kicking out with startling speed and knocking Keito’s legs out from under him. Keito fell to the pavement of the alley, his bare chest heaving, and he blinked up at Yuto, Yuto beaming as he looked down at him, the words falling light and proud from his lips as he offered Keito a hand

“Got you.” Keito couldn’t help but smile back, genuinely impressed with the way Yuto had managed to knock him off of his feet, and he reached up for Yuto’s proffered hand, taking it and letting Yuto jerk him to his feet as he said

“Yeah. You’re whupping my ass.” It was almost true. The first two weeks or so after the war with the Wakaba had ended had been consumed with funerals and healing from both physical and mental wounds. And while the mental healing would take much longer, both Yuto and Keito’s physical health were good enough to get back to sparring after that two or so week time. And so they had. Yuto in particular was very enthusiastic about it all, and he would drag Keito out into the alley at minimum once a day to throw fists and circle each other, their bodies growing tan in the summer sun.

Before he’d been shot Yuto had almost always beaten Keito. He had years of experience on his side, and Keito was clumsier, less precise. But now Yuto was learning how to deal with his new weak leg, and he was slower, rougher, and he was still building up his muscle, still working on his mobility. Only ten days ago Keito had him beat in every spar they had, but Yuto was working his ass off and it was striking just how far he had come in such a short time. Keito had been afraid before that Yuto wouldn’t be able to fight again, due to his leg. But now he felt sure that it was only a matter of time. He knew that the next fight he was in Yuto would be there. It was only a matter of when the next threat came.

At Keito’s words Yuto’s lips curled into a pleased little smirk, and he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, eyes squinting a little in the setting sun as he asked

“You up for another go?” Keito thought about it for a moment. Hikaru had gone out, and Keito was very excited for his boyfriend’s return. Inoo and Yamada were out too, their housemates off on a patrol of the territory that the kumi had acquired after the war; the old Wakaba territory. It had doubled the size of their land, and they all took turns patrolling it and checking in on the underlings twice a day. Everyone except Yabu, who while much better was still not up for quite that much strenuous activity. All of them were expected back by dinner time, and as such it shouldn’t be long before they showed up. He could spar with Yuto until then, he figured. And so he nodded, taking one last heaving breath of the warm evening air, and he put his fists up.

Yuto’s smile grew, and he matched Keito’s stance, face becoming determined, his brow furrowing, lips pursing as he stepped to the side, punching out, Keito dodging it and moving quickly with a punch of his own. It was nice to spar, nice to just lose himself in the dance of the fight and forget for a little while about all of the terrible things that had happened over the past five months. Nice to let it be over, and just live for a few moments. They didn’t have a lot to be happy about, but the war seemed to be over, peace had settled in after Ichinojo had been killed, and they were all trying hard to rebuild, to work toward something like happiness again. They would never be as they had been before, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be happy. It would just take work and time.

A big step toward that happiness was happening today, and Keito knew that he wasn’t the only one that was excited. It had taken weeks of surgeries, and skin grafts, and physical therapy, but Takaki was finally being released from the hospital today. He was finally coming home. Everyone was excited about it. They’d all woken up with a lightness in their chests and a buzz in their veins that felt so good after so much sadness and anger and death. The anticipation was infectious, and the whole house felt more alive than it had felt in months, and Keito could barely wait for Hikaru to come home, because he would be bringing Takaki back with him.

That excitement renewed him with energy as the sun set and the sky grew dark, street lamps flickering to life all along the alleyway, illuminating them in warm yellow light. It wasn’t long after that when from behind him, out of the darkness there was a shout, and Keito immediately turned away from Yuto, putting his friend behind him and facing the voice in the night. He pulled his Sig Sauer from his jean’s waistband in one fluid motion, pointing it out into the dark street, his heart stuttering in his chest in panic, eyes searching. But then there was a long string of curses, and he realized he recognized that voice, and he lowered the gun, as Inoo and Yamada strolled into view.

Keito took a few deep breaths, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to get his pounding heart under control. He put the gun away, and Yuto ran a comforting hand over his shoulder, moving to stand beside him instead of behind him, and the taller man waved at their housemates, calling out to them as they walked up

“How was everything? All of the brats still alive?” By that point the other two were nearly within conversational distance, and Yamada visibly snorted, one hand hooked into the strap on his sword, and he shook his head at Yuto’s wording. Keito raked his eyes over them as they walked up, looking for any signs of injury. But they were holding themselves naturally, and there weren’t any new injuries on the skin he could see. No new fear in their eyes. Nothing except Inoo watching him a tad reproachfully, his eyes on the grip of Keito’s Sig Sauer pressed against the small of his back from where it poked out of the top of his waistband.

“Everything went fine.” Yamada assured them both, and Keito nodded, willing to wait for dinner for a detailed report, like usual. But Yuto frowned a little, and Yamada seemed to understand that he was going to need to give a better answer than that before Yuto would be satisfied. And so he began to rattle off updates about the boys Yuto always asked about.

“No underlings died. No one should by now, everyone that still has lasting injuries are quite stable.” That reminder was given with a pointed look, and Yuto had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Igari Soya was out and walking. He wanted to know when you’d be back by. He wants to compare bullet wounds again; he seems to think you two have a special connection because you were shot in more or less the same spot. Shintaro and Juri were both out of bed and were fiercely beating Jesse and Kouchi at poker when he poked our heads into their apartment.” Yamada paused, obviously trying to think about who else Yuto usually asked about, and it was just as Yuto opened his mouth that Inoo jumped in, counting on his fingers as he spoke.

“Both Genta and Matsukura Kaito had their bandages changed this morning, and honestly I think they really don’t even need them any more. They should be all healed up within a week or so. Iwahashi Genki’s wounds are fully scarred over now. He still cried when I asked him about them, but he’ll get used to his new reflection. I think once Yabu’s up for it he should talk to the boy. Takahashi Kaito on the contrary seems very optimistic about his three fingered hand… Oh, and the infection in Nakamura Reia’s thigh is practically gone.” Yuto nodded, his shoulders visibly relaxing as Inoo finished, and Keito felt a small smile creep onto his face. Yuto was always so concerned about the underling boys. It was sweet.

“Hokuto gave me a report listing updates about all of the injured boys’ conditions as well. I’m going to give it to the Kumi-cho as soon as I see him.” Inoo said, holding up a folder full of papers, and he glanced toward the red door of their home, asking “Is he back yet? Is Takaki home?” His voice was light and casual, no trace of any heightened emotions, and Keito watched him closely. He was still trying to figure Inoo out. Trying to figure out what Inoo and Takaki’s relationship really was. But he couldn’t pin it down. He shook his head though, telling them

“Not yet. But Daiki started cooking dinner a while ago, so hopefully that will be done soon, and then as soon as Takaki and the Kumi-cho come home we can eat.” They all started toward the front steps, Keito and Yuto both leaning down to scoop their discarded tee shirts from the dark pavement, and as they clambered up the steps Keito asked “How was the Wakaba territory?”

“The same.” Yamada responded. “The edges of the former Wakaba territory still need to be reminded that they belong to the Kitagawa Group now, but nothing to really get worried about.” Keito nodded, the conversation dying as they moved over the threshold, Keito’s stomach growling instantly as he was hit with the rich smells of the meal Daiki had cooking over on the stove. They filed inside, and they were greeted with the sight of Chinen and Yabu lounging together on the couch in the living room, with what looked to be a lazy game of go fish in progress. Everyone turned to look at them when the group came in, and Daiki beamed, walking over to his husband, pulling him in for a kiss while Yabu said in a jokingly unenthusiastic tone

“Oh, it’s just you.” Next to him Chinen treated them to a rare smile, and Inoo snorted, rolling his eyes, humoring the older man. Yabu was still weak from the muscle deterioration that had occurred during his coma, but he’d started coming downstairs during the day to sit on the couch with them and eat meals at the table instead of in bed. He and Chinen had been spending a lot of time together, Chinen really seeming to have taken to Yabu when—once he was well enough to get out of Takaki’s bed, and back to his own—he had offered that they officially switch rooms, allowing Chinen to stay in the room he’d been sleeping in, instead of forcing him to return to the one he’d shared with Ryutaro.

All of them that were well enough had helped facilitate the move, and it had been an emotional day, Keito himself packing away all of Chinen’s pictures of Ryutaro in a box along with Ryu’s little knick knacks and miscellany, a lump in his throat and tears running down his cheeks throughout. All of Ryutaro’s things were now in boxes in Chinen’s new closet, sitting and waiting for the day that he was ready to go through them. Yabu seemed to be handling the room change well, and Chinen seemed to have had some weight taken off of his shoulders now that there was no fear of having to go back to sleep in that bed he had once shared with his deceased boyfriend. It was a good change. Another step toward an eventual happiness.

They all dispersed once inside the house, Inoo throwing himself onto the couch next to Yabu, leaving his folder on the coffee table, while the Ariokas retreated into the kitchen, Yamada taking his sword from where it hung on his shoulder and leaving it instead draped over his dining chair, while Daiki ran an appreciative hand over his back. Yuto glanced over at Keito and gestured up the stairs, saying

“I’m going to take a quick shower before the Kumi-cho and Takaki arrive.” Keito nodded, wiping at his own sweaty brow with his wadded up tee shirt and conceding that that was a great idea, watching as Yuto climbed the stairs, his weak leg obviously a little stiff, a small unevenness in his step. Once Yuto had made it to the top and turned out of sight Keito went over to Hikaru’s office door and pushed it open, walking through the room, his eyes deliberately avoiding the desk on his way to the bedroom. It didn’t seem to matter however, as his stomach did a little unpleasant flip inside of him anyway, just knowing what was there.

They’d lost about a third of their underlings in that last fight, and the list of the dead Hikaru had kept on his desk had grown so long it occupied two pages. He didn’t move it however, just kept it lying there, the names in neat rows. Looking at it made Keito’s stomach turn and his eyes burn, and seeing Ryutaro’s name written there in Hikaru’s shaking handwriting sandwiched between Takahashi Fu and Nakamura Kaito always made Keito’s breath catch in his throat. He hated the thing, but Hikaru had told him once that it helped him. Helped him remember the consequences. Helped him to not forget the boys they’d lost. Keito didn’t really understand it, but he figured that if it was helping Hikaru then he could put up with it.

Still, he felt better once he was in their bedroom with the door shut, separating him from that awful list. He sighed, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and he took his handgun from his waistband, placing it on the bedside table before crossing over to the adjoining bathroom, slipping out of his clothes and turning on the shower, the hot water pulling a sigh of relief from his lips when he stepped in, and he just stood under the spray for a moment, feeling the warmth from the water relax his muscles. He watched the water trace patterns over his tattooed arm for a moment, loving the look of the ink under the shining drops, before he ran his hands over his scalp, feeling his bristlingly short hair, and the scars where he’d had to get stitches after the last fight of the war.

He missed his long hair. They’d had to cut it off for the stitches, and while Hikaru assured him that he was still sexy, Keito couldn’t help but feel that it was just another reminder of what had happened, and he was looking forward to the day it was long enough to be thrown up into a ponytail again. He showered quickly, and once he had finished he threw on some sweatpants and a tank top. It was a Monday, and he didn’t have any debts to collect, what with Takaki coming home that night. It was just as he was leaving the bedroom, going to rejoin the group out in the living spaces—he could maybe help Daiki set the table or place a bet on the winner of that card game happening on the couch—when he heard the sound of the front door opening, and he darted for the office door.

He wrenched it open to see Hikaru standing there, his hand still on the doorknob, as he stood aside, Takaki walking in. There were happy shouts of welcome, and everyone got to their feet, Keito moving closer, eyes on Takaki, looking him over. They had all been to see him in the hospital, of course, but he had almost always been in bed then, and the bed with all of the tubes he was hooked up to, as well as that hospital gown, always seemed to make him look worse than he really was. Takaki was in jeans and a henley now, and he had bandages peeking out from under his collar and sleeves, but he was smiling, and happiness swooped high in Keito’s chest at the sight of him.

They all clamored for hugs, and as Keito moved closer Yuto called out from the top of the stairs, his hair dripping from his own shower, his clothes sticking to wet skin, as though he’d hopped out and hadn’t bothered drying himself off in his haste to get presentable. Takaki laughed, and waved, and Keito felt the sudden urge to cry, his relief and joy so much as to be almost painful. He stepped close to Hikaru content to wait his turn, and his boyfriend pulled him into his side, as the others still came over to Takaki for hugs, exclaiming about how good he looked and how glad they were to see him. No one had even bothered to shut the front door; it still stood open, letting in a warm breeze.

Hikaru ran his arm over Keito’s shoulders, and Keito reached up, lacing their fingers together and holding on, and Hikaru—in a rare moment of affection—placed a kiss on Keito’s temple, and Keito tried to choke out an apology through the lump in his throat, but Hikaru shook his head, and he said quietly

“I know. I know how you feel.” There was a pause, both of them watching as Yabu and Takaki hugged. Neither of them had seen the other in months. “I feel it too. It’s good.” Hikaru said, his voice barely a whisper, and Keito nodded, eyes still on Yabu and Takaki. There was a small silence between them, and then Hikaru said, voice low, just for Keito’s ears, but sure. “I love you.”

Keito found himself frozen, his whole world the low, sweet affection in the syllables as they'd rolled off Hikaru's tongue. The warmth of Hikaru's body up against his. And Keito had _known._ He'd known that Hikaru loved him. But in all of the time they'd been together Hikaru had never said it. Not until today. Not until now. He felt Hikaru's arm shift on his shoulders, and he looked over at Hikaru's face, eyes catching on the barely present blush dusting his cheeks and arching over the bridge of his nose, Keito's chest aching, heart leaping. It could only have been a moment or two, the other members of their house still engrossed in greeting Takaki, and it took Keito a few seconds to find his voice before he said

"I know, you know." He could see Hikaru's eyebrows raise just a little in surprise, and Keito could hear his emotions getting the best of him, as he breathed out, just barely a whisper "I love you too." A sweet little smile broke out on Hikaru's face at that, and he looked down, his lashes brushing his cheeks as his blush deepened ever so slightly, and he nodded a little.Keito nodded back, unable to speak, tears fully running down his cheeks now. But then Yuto finally reached the bottom of the stairs, and he was yelling that Yabu needed to let him and Keito have a turn. And Yabu was grumbling good naturedly back, and everyone was smiling. Keito blinked away his tears enough to look around at all of them, and something settled inside of him, and he knew that it was good. That this was home again. And he smiled.


End file.
